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doctors-star · 2 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where obi-wan gets a FUCKING NAP. just a nice little lie down! a cup of tea! a SNOOZE

Anakin is going to be in so much trouble.

He tries to think of some ways he could explain what has happened to the Masters: Obi-Wan is just busy in a way Anakin definitely knows about but can’t explain (weak); Obi-Wan has given Anakin the day off for good behaviour (implausible); well, why should Anakin know where the man is anyway? He’s not his Master’s keeper. (Unwise.)

He skids to a halt and walks peacefully and calmly past two of his fellow Padawans, offering them a polite bow of the head in passing. And then he takes off again at such speed that his boots slide on the temple floor and he nearly gets a facefull of marble. Obi-Wan, where in the Sith hells ARE you?

He’s checked everywhere else in the temple, so his last resort is the younglings’ creche, even though he can’t see why Obi-Wan would need to come down here. The younglings aren’t even in lessons right now - the crowd nearest the entrance look up at his approach and scramble to muster around his knees, and he has to grin as various toys, drawings and clamouring hands are thrust towards him. He kneels down for a better view, fielding their delight with careful ease.

“Are you in trouble again, Ani?” Mish, a serious little Twi’lek asks him sternly with her hands folded in front of her.

Anakin makes a face. “Yes and no,” he replies. A common occupation for wayward Padawans who need to learn lessons of empathy, patience and fairness is care of the younglings as they are taught those lessons in turn; it settles the older students, and provides care for the younger. Anakin enjoys his time in the creche and comes out of it more stable and reasonable and fair, so it’s not a terrible punishment, but he’s still been down here more often than he’d like. “You know how you’re all given things to look after and keep track of? So that you can find them later?” The kids nod. Several of them obligingly point out the tidy toy boxes around the edges of the rooms. “Well, I’ve lost something and I need to find it.”

“We’ll help you look!” announces Tan, the tiniest human boy Anakin has ever seen, grabbing Anakin’s hand and hauling as though to lead him around the creche, checking each toy box in turn.

“Thank you,” Anakin says, allowing himself to be bent double and pulled further inside, “but I’m not sure - you see,” he adds conspiratorially, getting the kids to lean in and listen, “I’ve lost Master Kenobi.”

The younglings fall about giggling, as expected. “Oh, that’s easy,” Tan announces, changing direction towards the doorway to the area commonly used for reading stories and napping. “But you have to be quiet.”

“Okay,” Anakin says, entirely bewildered; obligingly, he makes his steps careful and quiet even as the other kids thunder around, and then-

There’s a pile of cushions in the middle of the room and atop it, a pile of younglings fast asleep. This is nothing new, of course, but upon closer inspection there is a datapad sticking out of the pile, as though someone had been reading stories before bed, and then an arm wrapped around a precariously-stacked child, and a boot far too large to be a youngling’s.

Oh, and then there is the snoring. Obi-Wan is snoring like a bantha with a cold, and there are younglings tucked up in his arms, on his chest, in the crook of his bent knee and wrapped around the bone of his hip, moving slightly with the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He looks - peaceful, actually, in a way he so rarely does. Even in sleep. In the early days of his apprenticeship, Anakin had crept from his own bed to curl up next to Obi-Wan’s, afraid that he would vanish in the night; even then, Obi-Wan had not looked so calm as he does now. He had slept with a frown etched into his forehead, curled up on his side under three heavy blankets and wrapped around a pillow like he, too, had been afraid of having things ripped from him. But now, he’s sprawled loosely and his face is open and empty, devoid of worry, and the only resemblance he now bears to that other sleeping man in Anakin’s memory is in the weights settled over him, and the way his arms wrap around the younglings scattered over and around him.

“See?” Tan says proudly and slightly too loudly. “Easy.”

“Shh,” Anakin says, gathering his gaggle around him and guiding them back into the other room. “Let’s play in here and let the others sleep.”

Mish tugs his sleeve. “But it’s nearly snack time, and they’ll miss it if they sleep.”

Anakin settles on the floor and pulls some crayons towards him, letting Tan scramble into his lap. “I’m sure we can save them all a snack. It looks like they need the sleep.”

“501? I’m looking for General Kenobi. He’s needed for a meeting.”

Ki-Adi-Mundi has never heard such resounding silence from the 501s in his life. He’s disturbed them at cards before, so it can hardly be shame at being found in a loose circle with credits in the middle. They’re off duty, and he’s hardly asking them to go above and beyond. And Cody is protective enough that it’s hardly likely that they don’t know the answer.

He suspects that it has more to do with the medium-sized brown lump on the ground between two of the clones. If he didn’t know better, Ki-Adi-Mundi would say it looked like a crumpled pile of Jedi robes in the nice warm brown General Kenobi so favours, in the approximate size and shape of an adult man curled up on the floor with the hood hastily thrown over his head. If he didn’t know better, he might think he could hear it breathing, slow and steady, and he might think he could see a tuft of coppery, dusty hair sticking out where one end of the lump is pillowed on Cody’s thigh. If he didn’t know any better, he might think that Cody’s hand is resting on the lump in the way one might rest a hand comfortingly on a friend’s shoulder.

Ki-Adi-Mundi decides he does know better. “Well, if you see him, tell him to come to me for a briefing. But not for at least…three hours, I’ll be busy. With things. So no need to look for him at all, really. Right. Good; carry on, men.”

“With pleasure, sir,” Cody says.

“Right, that’s it - I’ve had enough of you, get out of my kitchen.”

“I only-”

“No,” Padmé says firmly, “you’re being annoying. Go and lie down.”

Obi-Wan looks truly pathetic, but Padmé hardens her heart. He is absolutely exhausted - the twins have had them all up and down with nightmares that need careful unravelling to determine and differentiate between Force dreams and normal ones for weeks now, and Obi-Wan is best at doing so and the lightest sleeper. She and Ani are tired; Obi-Wan is holding himself up on the kitchen counter and grey from head to toe.

He’s also getting in the way when she’s trying to cook, talking himself in anxious circles about Luke’s reading ability and picking her up in the whirl, and refusing to have a nap. She loves him dearly, but he has to get out of her kitchen or she is going to scream.

“I can’t sleep,” he mumbles, looking very sorry for himself.

Padmé crosses to place her hands on his slumped shoulders and press up on her toes to kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry for that,” she says gently. “And if you go and lie down you’ll feel better even if you don’t sleep. You might drop off anyway.”

“I won’t,” he tells her, eyes wide and wet and half-wild with exhaustion. He has been drifting lately, ghostlike in his inability to rest or remain; it’s like he is actively fading away, as though there is less of him every day that he doesn’t muster a joke over the breakfast table or a snarky comment in response to whatever’s on the news, every day he doesn’t swoop in to press kisses to Padmé’s face or wrap himself around Anakin’s back and rest there.

It breaks her heart.

So she smacks him with a tea towel.

“Ow!”

“Go away and lie down, Obi-Wan, now. You’re worse than Leia.”

Looking hurt and mulish, and clutching his injured arm, he traipses out of the kitchen. She sticks her head out to see him settled properly on the sofa, and he puts his hands up in surrender when he catches her doing so. But she can now get on with the cooking without Obi-Wan in the way - although, maybe she should just check that he’s still lying down? No, he’s fine, and she has to get on. But is he sleeping? He looked so pale, maybe he needs-

Leia trails into the kitchen looking bored and Padmé seizes her opportunity. “Leia, baby, go and read your book to your Papa,” she says, taking Leia by the shoulders and steering her right back out again.

“Mama,” Leia whines, but more at the handling than the idea; she turns her feet easily towards her room and her datapad. “Fine but only ‘cause I wanna,” she insists.

“Thank you,” Padmé sings back, returning to her cooking. She listens carefully, hearing Leia thumping about in her room, then little feet skipping off toward the sofa, and then a variety of old man noises as Leia scrambles up and makes herself comfortable on her Papa’s stomach. They’re too far away for Padmé to make out the words, but she can hear Leia’s sharp, firm tones and Obi-Wan’s gentle inquiries rumbling back, and then Leia’s decisive monologuing. They’ll keep an eye on each other.

It’s quite some time before Ani and Luke get back from the market - Padmé would guess that some time had been spent playing with the speeder that could really have been spent more wisely, but never mind. Luke rushes to be kissed and placed on the counter; Ani descends with more grace, but equal eagerness, for his greeting. “Hello, my loves,” she says, smoothing her son’s sunshine hair. “Good day?”

“Yup!” Luke says happily, then mimes sealing his lips; Padmé raises an indulgent eyebrow at her husband, who shrugs sheepishly.

“It was fun,” he says, and Padmé forgives him. “Where’s Leia and Papa?”

“Hopefully, sleeping on the sofa,” Padmé says, and Anakin looks surprised.

“You did manage to get him to lie down?”

Padmé looks at the towel. “I had some help,” she hedges. “Luke, sunshine, go and check on Papa.”

He wriggles off the counter and charges off. “Think he’s slept at all?” Ani says, not sounding optimistic.

“I hope so. I thought Leia might help - I don’t think he likes sleeping alone.” Ani tilts his head curiously, stepping in to wind his arms around her. Padmé cuddles in close, ear to his heartbeat. “He seems to be more rested when we’re around, anyway. And it makes sense: from what you’ve both said about the temple, the creche, the younglings, he wouldn’t have been on his own until he became a Padawan. And that was late.”

Ani hums agreement. “In the war, too. He used to sleep sitting upright, squashed between troopers on a transport. Oh, Obi-Wan.”

Padmé pats his arm and draws back slightly. “You want to go sit on our lover until he sleeps?”

Anakin grins and smacks a kiss to her forehead. “More than anything.”

On the sofa, Leia is sprawled over Obi-Wan’s left and drooling on his chest; Luke has tucked himself up between her and the back of the sofa without waking anyone and is grinning proudly up at his parents. Obi-Wan has his nose buried in Leia’s hair and is snoring gently.

Anakin pads over and settles on the floor next to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, draping Obi-Wan’s arm like a scarf across his collarbones and holding his hand in place around his shoulder. Carefully, Padmé picks up Obi-Wan’s legs and settles upright with them over her lap and retrieves Leia’s datapad.

At the motion, Obi-Wan stirs with a sort of purring noise. “It’s only us, love,” Anakin says gently, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s fingers.

Padmé squeezes his knee until the tension leaves him once more. “Go to sleep,” she instructs him, quiet but firm; Obi-Wan makes a disgruntled noise, but for once he does as he is told.

#star wars #star wars prequels #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obianidala #the 501: ugh! i hate crowded transports!#obi wan: [jammed in like a sardine; incandescent with joy]#everyone in obi wan's vicinity: if you disturb this man's nap i'll kill everyone and then myself #this is your captain speaking #hope u enjoy!

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slayerchick303 · 10 months

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QAF characters and how much I trust them

Emmett Honeycutt- My one true love! I'd trust him with the keys to my entire life. Emmett is who I aspire to be as a person. Not in like his career, love life, or anything. I'd just love to be as kind, confident, and pure of a human as he is. That being said, I think he's too optimistic to give any truly sound relationship advice (whether it be towards a friend, significant other, or family). But I'm just a cynic. On that note!----

Brian Kinney- I love Brian, and we have a lot in common. That is possibly why I give him zero trust. Brian would absolutely leave you stranded at an airport because he forgot to pick you up. At best, he'd be incredibly late because he got... diverted. I don't think he'd be as bad after season 5, but he's still not remotely reliable. (When I say I'm like him, it's not in this way! I'm not a flake like him). If he eventually showed up to your party, you could trust him to stay for about 5 minutes unless it was his kind of party. He'll show up to your anniversary gathering drunk with 2 random leather daddies he met at the bar. That being said, you can always trust him to liven a dead event by spiking the punch. He'd do that until a better offer came along, that is.

Justin Taylor- All the trust! He might be slightly late and have no food in his refrigerator when you come over, but he will never leave you in a lurch. He'll give you honest feedback and help you see reason before you do something stupid. And if he thinks something you believe in is worth doing, he'll stand at your side and help... even if it means plastering up posters all night when he has work in the morning. He'll tell you when your significant other sucks and that you should break up with them.

Michael Novotny- If you'd asked me in season 1, I would have given him so much trust. After season 5, however, my opinion changed. He would absolutely get preoccupied with his family and not be able to help you. He'd forget to call to cancel plans, too. As much as Michael is less of a doormat in season 5, I would still worry he wouldn't give me honest feedback. Plus, his whole judgemental streak was not cool. Those are heavy cons brought up in season 5, but I like to think he gets his head back on right, and he starts being a good friend and better person again.

Ted Schmidt- Ted is amazing in a crisis. He's the person you call at 3 AM when your life has fallen apart. He'll pick you up, help you save whatever you can, and draw up a ten point plan on how things are going to be okay by the time you're going to sleep on his couch. He'll assist you with phone calls and forms. Ultimate trust! He's fun at parties if you're looking for the chill area. He's much better after his self-esteem glow up in season 5. I couldn't hang with season 1 Ted. I'm already the -1,000 self-image person in the group. Granted, I have legitimate reason to be that way when Ted absolutely does not. That being said, he's another person who can't be objective with relationship advice. Most especially romantic advice. Both his and Brian's political opinions are straight-up garbage.

Melanie Marcus- She's another person I'd give the keys to my life to! If ever I needed help, I'd call her. I'd probably call Teddy first because he has less going on in his life, but Melanie would be my second call. She's competent in virtually everything but home renovation. She'll be honest with and will support you. She'll represent you pro-bono if you ever get into legal trouble. She'll rage with you at town halls to make sure everyone is protected and safe under the law. She'll plan events to bolster the community. She's even fun at parties. She earns all of the trust! The only thing I worry about is her absolute refusal to not go 160 miles per hour all the time. The woman needs to learn when to take a break. She has a vice grip desire to control things, but I'm pretty laissez-faire about everything, so I'd be glad not to have to make decisions.

Lindsay Peterson- While she shares many of the same qualities as Melanie, I trust her less. For one, she's the queen of getting invested in something when all prior experience has told her it's never going to happen (i.e. that her parents will love her unconditionally). Her priority is family, which is 100% valid. But unlike Mikey, if she or Mel were going to have to leave you high and dry, she'd at least call you. Most likely, she'd find someone else to make sure you were covered if neither she nor Mel could be there for you. She is a little prudish. She's often focused on propriety and the approval of others, so that's not great. Especially since I'm a people pleaser to begin with, so that's like adding gasoline to a fire. She would give sound relationship advice, though I think she's too forgiving of bad behavior *cough* Brian *cough*

Ben Bruckner- He's obviously very trustworthy and would do everything possible to help a friend. However, he does get tunnel vision and is primarily focused on family and work. At least he'd call if he had to cancel on you. That being said, I feel like his relationship advice would either be too nebulous or encourage you to just forget things and move on. He's also a Debbie Downer if you achieve something he aspires to. So, if you need a cheering section, I wouldn't trust Ben fully.

Debbie Novotny- If you need a cheering section, she's the woman to call. She'll come with literal bells on and bring half the diner with her. She would try (and absolutely fail) to give worthwhile advice. However, she pries, and she puts her nose in everyone's business. She'd force you to listen to unsolicited advice and demand to know personal details about you whilst spilling hers that you don't want to hear. That being said, she'd give you the shirt off her back and let you stay at her place indefinitely, provided you meet certain rules. She'd be the mother every person deserves (and I certainly wish I had), minus the occasional bout of horrible hypocrisy.

The top people in my trust list are Ted, Melanie, Justin, and Emmett. Who are yours? Tag me if you do this!

Inspired by @buffy--the--vampire--slayer 's post.

#queer as folk 2000 #queer as folk us #queer as folk #qaf #qafamily #qaf 2000 #qaf us #brian kinney #justin taylor #michael novotny #emmett honeycutt #ted schmidt #melanie marcus #lindsay peterson #debbie novotny #ben bruckner

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batwritings · 3 years

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Okay hear me out, you are talking so someone and DreamXD gets all grumpy about it but you just tell him to relax. The reason he's with you is to learn how to blend in with other human, so he should be watching how you act. Well manz watches to closely and gets all bother. Later after you both go home or just somewhere else that's when he gets ya. He's all like “what?” as his whole goal is to get you all bothered, but he's kinda mean and he knows how much you love his voice so he uses it to his advantage.

I am so sorry I have personally put my own meaning on “fuck god”

Friend? Never apologize for putting that spin on “fuck god”. :) Plus, you’re playing into the voice kink, how could I say no? Enjoy~!

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DreamXD huffed as he followed behind you and he knew you heard it. “Are you gonna grump the whole time Mister?” you chuckled, turning your head slightly to smile at him. The god of the SMP had reached out to you some time ago for your help in blending in more with the humans he watched over. At the time, you had questioned why he wouldn’t ask someone closer to Dream himself, like George. While XD didn’t exactly explain, you let it slide, allowing him to shadow you in a sense.

“I just don’t get why we have to meet with this person in particular,” he grumbled, picking up his step to walk beside you.

“Sapnap’s my friend too,” you responded. You often wondered if XD and Dream shared similar emotions towards people. While you were told that they didn’t, adamantly so by the being beside you, you still couldn’t help but wonder.

“And you’re sure this interaction will help me blend in better?” He hums quietly, contemplative.

“Positive!” you answer, voice chipper and now excited. You notice your friend and one of his fiance’s in the distance and wave to them. “That’s Sapnap’s fiance Karl! You know what that is right?” When you can practically feel the eye-roll from behind his mask, you nod and lead him to the clearing.

Your interaction wasn’t meant to be long, just catching up with the two and learning about Kinoko Kingdom. You introduce them to DreamXD and you notice Sapnap narrow his eyes a bit. You assure the fiery man that he has nothing to do with Dream, that you trust the god and that he is indeed safe. The ravenette seems skeptical but moves on in conversation.

The entire time, XD is watching you carefully. Bright neon green eyes watch your every movement, listens to every word and laugh and noise that falls from your lips. He can feel his body heating up under his cloak and that’s when he chooses to speak up.

“Darling,” he coos, voice distorted and echoing. Something shoots up your spine at that, something you hope your two friends don’t notice. “Think we can go home? There’s something I need to go over with you, remember?” He wasn’t entirely lying, but even he realized it was a pretty piss-poor excuse.

You smile up at him as if to say “really?” but nod approvingly. You bid your farewells to Sapnap who takes a little longer to hug you as he’s afraid to let you go. XD doesn’t let that go unnoticed, deciding to file it away for later questions.

Once home you sigh, setting down your bag and beginning to settle back in. “Pet,” you hear him say, still awkwardly standing in your doorway. Another shiver shoots up your spine at his tone.

“Y-yeah?” you respond, heading towards your bedroom upstairs. He follows you almost dutifully after hanging his cloak at the door.

“I think I’m starting to get a better understanding of humans,” he says, voice low and seductive as he starts down the hall ahead of you. “You use words and embraces to show your affection yes? To show you care?”

You watch him sit back on your bed, legs spread for you to sit between. You do so without hesitation, something you did quite frequently with him. “Mhmm,” you respond, leaning back against his chest. “What’s with the voice big guy?”

Pale, freckled arms reach around your tummy to hold you close. They’re freezing, but not uncomfortably so. “What do you mean darling?” He answers as he his thumbs draw gentle circles on your sides, making you squirm a little in your grasp. “Don’t you like my voice? Like it when I call you nice names?”

“I-I do! I really do!” you exclaim. You shift in your spot to straddle his hips and look at him properly. Your gentle hands move his mask to the side, something he would only ever allow you to do. You were so special to him. “It’s just...”

“What, pet?” DreamXD moves his hands to your hips, clawed hands gently ghosting over slightly exposed skin. “I think it’s only fair. You got me all bothered under my cloak back there. I get to rile you up a bit too, hmm?”

The echoes and distortions grow louder as they bounce off your humble home’s walls. Only stutters slip from your lips then, leaning up against him until your lips meet, soft and gentle. You used to hate how gentle XD was with you until you let him let go once and couldn’t get anything done for the rest of the week. You knew he could break you physically and mentally all with his words and it really did something for you.

You felt his member hard against your sex and it had you gasping. It was always a bit of a marvel at how big he was, sometimes forgetting that he was a god after all. He chuckles when you gasp into his mouth, lips moving as you scramble to catch up with what he’s saying.

“What an eager little thing,” he coos, his claws tugging at your pants. “And all from my voice. Guess I should let you take me out more often hmm? I’d love to see how desperate you would get in public.”

You keen at his words, shifting yourself until you can pull of your pants and underwear. You reach to the side into your bedside table, hand barely able to keep hold of the lube once you have it. You slick up your fingers and slide one in, your hole taking your digit easily.

“That’s my sweet little thing,” your hear XD chuckle. His slid his member out of his lovely robes and you’re almost a little intimidated. Gods he’s so big, but you know he’ll be patient with you as he always is. You’re his precious human after all. “Add another finger for me darling.”

You do as he asks, knowing you’ll be stretched out in no time. One thing DreamXD became ecstatically hooked on after discovering it through you was sex. You were rarely left unfilled, the god loving how you felt around him. It wasn’t long before you felt the need to add a third digit, eagerly pumping them in and out of your hole.

“You’ll feel so good around me dear,” he huffed, smiling at you with bright eyes and sharp teeth. “My precious Y/N.”

A low whine leaves you as you quickly sit back up, pressing the head of his cock to your entrance and beginning the slow slide of him into you. You both are groaning in unison, him from the feeling of you sliding down his member and you from the almost overwhelming sensation of being so full. You watch with rapt attention at the small bulge in your stomach.

“So full,” hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His arms encircle you again, liking the feeling of your body pressed close to him. You wrap your arms around his neck as you slowly lift yourself off his length before sliding back down. “Just as I knew you would be.”

You’re panting just from being full of your ethereal lover, his cock pressing against all of your sensitive nerves. You know you won’t last long, you never do. XD never seems to mind, but this time he seems determined. He wants to reach that high with you. You watch his every expression as you ride him, your hole fluttering with each sweet word that gets warped and growled.

You start to notice a pattern; every time you pull just to the head of his member and clench, his breath catches. Using this to your advantage, your pace picks up, being sure to keep focused on each step as you ride him. Little gasps start to leave his throat, his words starting to fail him and eyes glossing over.

“Cum with me XD,” you whine, teetering on the edge. “Feel the pleasure of being human.” Sharp teeth bite into your shoulder, pushing you into your climax with force. You can barely register yourself being filled until you start to come down from your peak, feeling the wetness drip down your thighs.

DreamXD let’s go of your shoulder, kissing and licking at the open wound. He presses a kiss just below your ear with panting breaths. “Thank you, Y/N,” he whispers lowly. “I’m learning so much from you.”

#bat writes #anon reqs #DreamXD #mcyt x reader #DreamXD smut #DreamXD x reader #mcyt smut

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luminnara · 3 years

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God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much.

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting.

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean.

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin.

“...a little.”

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled.

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled.

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her.

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked.

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly.

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked.

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne.

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked.

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound.

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was.

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul.

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind.

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk.

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm.

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back.

“Relax,” Marko purred.

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care.

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous.

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand.

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined.

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched.

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him.

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge.

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway.

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn��t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well.

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed.

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal.

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin.

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others.

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh.

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor.

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her.

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak.

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat.

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food.

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened.

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said.

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other.

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them.

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

#GODDAMN SHIT SUCKING VAMPIRES #the lost boys #poly lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #the lost boys x oc #the lost boys x reader #david x oc #dwayne x oc #paul x oc #marko x oc #david x reader #dwayne x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 17

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mental health discussion Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You had no idea where Bucky was taking you. All you did know was that he was gripping your hand tightly and walking slightly faster than you, say, the average human would be used to. He was feeling a lot, you could tell. A million little things going off in that head of his. You wanted to know them all to try to ease them. You wanted to help him again as he had helped you these past few weeks.

But he wasn’t giving you a chance. Right now, the only thing he was outwardly focusing on was dinner. Whatever this dinner was going to actually entail.

You almost couldn’t believe it when he finally came to a stop. Your eyes got wide as you read the restaurant name. You lowered your gaze quickly to look in at the familiar decor and seating.

It’s where you two had met. Where you had that first date. The night you began to consider that maybe the nightmares had been a blessing, not a curse. You wished you still had that attitude.

“This is where you want to eat?” You asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Brings back good memories.”

With nothing much else left to say, Bucky guided you into the restaurant. He asked for a table for two and by some weird luck from Fate, you two were seated at a very familiar table. In very familiar seats. All that was missing was a proud-looking Steve to make some smart remarks. Oh, Steve… You worried about what he would think of this situation.

“You gonna get the salad again?” Bucky asked. His voice was almost on the lighter side, easing some of your concerns - at least, for the time being. You chuckled.

“Is that really what I got on our first date?” You sighed. “How cliche of me.”

“You were nervous. I was nervous,” Bucky admitted. His eyes danced around the menu. “Hell, I’m still nervous.”

Slowly, you pushed your menu aside, already having settled on the salad again (don’t wanna get too crazy), and reached for Bucky’s hand. He was shaking just ever so slightly.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your thumb drawing mindless patterns on the back of his hand. He gripped yours tighter, giving a little nod.

Soon after that, the waitress stopped by and took your drink and meal orders. Everything was pretty much cookie-cutter from your first trip here. Bucky with his burger, you with your salad. Both indulge in some ice water. You almost wanted to make a comment about the chicken nuggets, but Bucky looked way too all over the place for much more banter. He let go of your hand, sadly.

Bucky suddenly spoke your name like it was breaking his heart with every syllable. Your eyes perked up. “What are we going to do?” He asked.

You shifted your gaze quickly. “You heard what Bruce suggested.”

“There has to be something more we can do.”

“He seemed pretty dead set on it,” you sighed. “He’s the expert, Buck.”

“Well, maybe we need to get a second opinion from whoever he was talking about-,”

Your eyes fell on him once more. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

Now Bucky was the one looking away. Your waitress awkwardly placed your meals in their respective spots. Neither of you moved.

“I don’t know if I can give it up.”

“Wh-What?”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair frustratingly. “I always thought that’d be what I wanted, to just stop. No more fighting, no more missions, no more… Anything. Just live a normal life as I should’ve all those years ago.” He let out an exaggerated breath. “But now that it’s actually a possibility, the thought of giving up everything I’ve known is daunting.”

You felt your eyes beginning to water. You dug your nails into your hand trying not to explode in the restaurant. “Bucky, come on. This could help me so much, you know? Please tell me you realize that because right now it looks like you don’t… you don’t care that I’ve suffered.”

“Sweetheart, please, I-I get that. I really do.” Bucky tried reaching for your hand upon seeing how tense they were but you quickly pulled away. “It’s just… What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t cope and then, sure, the nightmares stop but you lose me.”

“Lose you?”

“What if I don’t adapt?”

The question hung over the table eerily. You didn't really know the answer to this. You hadn’t thought this was going to be something that needed a whole conversation on. In your mind, it was so simple: Bucky gives up missions, the nightmares stop, you two live happily ever after. You never thought there’d be a chance he’d be too nervous to retire. Too concerned about himself, his mind. You had seen him so strong going against the organization that terrorized him. But there was a distraction. An ulterior motive. You.

He had distractions galore, you just being the newest addition, and giving up work would put him in the unknown.

“You don’t think you can just exist as a civilian.”

“Possibly,” he confirmed. You closed your eyes, trying to center yourself. Your anger was slowly subsiding as you tried to understand.

With shaky breaths, you dared to ask, “You can’t even try for me?”

As you slowly opened your eyes, you thought Bucky looked like he had been slapped. The surprised yet uncertain reaction he wore made you wonder what you were getting yourself into. What you had been getting yourself into.

But as fast as all those emotions ran across Bucky’s face, he quickly pulled himself out of it. It was like he was suddenly aware of what was going on. What point you two were at here. You felt a slight pull from within you.

He shook his head. “I’m going to have to, aren’t I?”

You sighed, realizing the position you had now put him in. There was almost no winning in this situation, huh? “No, Bucky. Not if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I’m making this all about me.”

With shaky hands, you tried stabbing at your salad but your appetite had suddenly gone missing. You wanted to push the whole thing off the table and storm away, completely lost in your anger over the hand you had been dealt. Everyone else got happy, exciting lives with their soulmate - why couldn’t that be the case for you and Bucky?

Bucky gave you a weak smile, his eyes softer at your apology. “I think you’re entitled to do so given…everything.”

“It’s just… This isn’t fair. None of this is fair. Neither of us should have to give up anything to just have a life together.”

Bucky picked at his french fries. “I’ll try, doll. We’ll go to Steve later, let him know.”

“A-Are you sure?” It felt maybe too good to be true. But Bucky nodded, fairly confidently.

“You’re right, the situation is not fair. But I have a chance to maybe make it a little better.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “We both deserve a life together.”

You nodded, your heart filling with optimism, something you don’t think you felt so presently since your first time in this restaurant. Close to a full-circle moment, you declared. “Do you think Steve will be okay with this?”

“It was recommended by Bruce. Doctor’s orders, literally,” Bucky chuckled. “Besides, he’s my best friend. He’ll understand.”

***

“I don’t understand.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. You shifted uncomfortably beside him. “About retirement or…”

“No, no,” Steve shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. “You could’ve walked away at any point before this, Buck. I mean about the nightmares. I thought they would’ve gone away.”

You both let out sighs of relief. Leave it to Steve to fumble that one. He had seemed a bit different when you entered the room like something was on his mind. Neither of you asked him about it but you knew Bucky would grill him eventually. Especially after that misunderstanding.

You had been pretty much dreading this conversation as just a while ago you were nervous about what Steve would think. He had been such a key player in this arrangement, having only the best intentions the world wasn’t aligning with. You knew he was always concerned about the nightmares so it must’ve been a bit unsettling to hear improvement wasn’t exactly linear.

“Bruce discovered our bond has been tampered with,” Bucky explained. It was as simple as anyone could put it and you were actually thankful for that. You grabbed Bucky’s hand, he accepted.

“A tampered bond?” Steve shook his head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. What caused-,”

The words died on Steve’s lips as he saw the dark look that came over Bucky’s face. There was no need to speak of it anymore. Steve nodded in a silent understanding.

He changed the subject, “Well, I think it’s very brave of you, Buck, to want to step away.”

“Thank you-,”

“But this was passed along to me today.” Steve tossed a folder on the table. You didn’t miss the way Bucky tensed in your arms as he stared at the government emblem embossed into the waxy paper. You waited, hopeful, for how Bucky would approach this.

Bucky began shaking his head slowly. “I just got done saying-,”

“You know this isn’t under my control,” Steve said. Hell, even you knew that and this wasn’t anywhere near to what you did for a living. No government orders were coming down about coffee.

“Why me?” He asked just above a whisper.

Steve crossed his arms, frowning like a man holding the secret of the universe. He ignored Bucky’s initial question. “They said you needed to be included. I glanced over it and it honestly doesn’t look too complicated. I’m still working out who will all be on the team. I just know, well, you’re on it.” He sighed and glanced down. “The government thinks it’s the least you can do given your...history.”

Bucky scoffed but didn’t try to defend himself. Something in your heart snapped at that. He dropped your hand and reached for the folder. You tried looking over information but everything was just jumbled nonsense to you. It probably didn’t help that you were suddenly crying. Neither of the men had noticed but you felt the tears hitting your cheeks. You saw the way your vision was getting blurred. Just one more time, you told yourself as some sort of self-soothing affirmation bullshit. You needed to book a therapy session, stat.

“Fine,” Bucky agreed without so much as looking at you. But why would he? What were you going to do? This was outside the realm of anyone in the room but that didn’t mean it didn’t absolutely cut you up inside.

All you could do was hope. Once again, some fueling from good old-fashioned hope was going to get you through it. Hope that the mission will go smoothly. Hope that he'll come back in one piece. Hope that this wouldn’t be a distraction for you to just get whisked away again (you doubted, but hey, life got funny).

You had one tragedy creeping into your brain every night. You didn’t need another one on top of it. You wanted to communicate this to Bucky but you believed he already had some idea of it by the way his eyes overanalyzed every word on the file’s pages.

Just this one. The words were unsung but well present in the room. You felt like the world was never going to let you catch a break as Bucky took your hand and began leading you out of the compound, still not looking at you.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #while you sleep #soulmate au #fluff #angst #mcu #mcu fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

sugar and spice and everything nice // remus lupin

Summary: reader has a meetcute with Remus in quite possibly his favourite place on Earth

Request: would you mind writing the reader in honeydukes bumping into remus lupin and bonding over their love for chocolate? thank u 💖💖💖

A/N: how many different ways can I spell chcolate chcoclate chocolate wrong :) also I treasure the ceoncept but am unsure about execution

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: none I was good

In life, you had priorities. Sure, there were things that were important to you; like world peace and the like, but priority numero uno was one thing and one thing only. Chocolate. Whilst it wasn’t the best of things to be addicted to, at least it wasn’t hurting anybody; at least you weren’t addicted to murder or something, right? That’s what you were telling yourself, anyways, as you stood in front of Honeyduke’s chocolate shelves for the third time that month. The owner, Mr Flume, or Ambrosius as he insisted you call him, was a particular fan of yours given the fact that you almost bought out the shop every time you came. You spent hours in there at once, trying different things and becoming the connoisseur of chocolate you were today; you often got so engrossed in the whole thing that you barely paid any attention to what was going on around you. That, arguably, was a problem.

As you stepped backwards, surveying the enormous selection of treats, you didn’t notice a tall boy with a handful of coins clinking in his palm next to you. You only noticed him, actually, when you side-stepped into his body with a hefty amount of force, knocking his hand and sending his money flying, the metal rattling onto the floor.

“Oh, Merlin!” you huffed, instantly reaching down to help him retrieve it, only to have your forehead collide with his with a resounding thud. You both tipped backwards on your crouching heels, rubbing your heads as you sat on the floor of the almost deserted sweetshop.

“Pretty sure I could’ve handled that one better,” you said sheepishly, finally looking at the boy you’d just turned into a human piñata. Your breathing hitched when you realised who it was, catching in your throat as you recognised those warm green eyes and handsome features. You didn’t know Remus Lupin personally, but you had often ranted to your friends about how much you wished you did, not to mention how cute he was from afar.

“I think I almost definitely could’ve too, don’t worry,” he said, frowning with a nervous laugh that made butterflies swarm in your stomach. You’d imagined his voice a fair few times, but never had it lived up to the real thing.

You stood up and blew air from your cheeks sharply. With an amused smile, you offered him a hand, your grin widening as his eyes darted between your face and your outstretched palm. His hand gripped yours as you helped him to his feet, both of you awkwardly pulling away when you realised how long you’d been touching for. He wiped his palm on his trousers, hoping you didn’t notice.

“Sorry,” you said, bending down and scraping together the change on the floor as he loomed over you, shifting his weight from side to side. He watched you pick up the warm coins that had been sitting in his palm for the last ten minutes and hoped, with a fair amount of paranoia, that you wouldn’t discover how clammy his hands were. “I was very, very busy perusing the chocolate shelves, you see.”

You smiled as you rose to your feet, sliding the money into his palm, biting your lip at the contact, completely unaware of his eyes following you.

“A very understandable excuse,” he said gently, eager to see your smile again. “I’m quite the fan myself, actually.”

“Oh, really?” you turned to face the shelves conspiratorially, your shoulder almost touching Remus’. “What’s your poison?”

The corner of his lips curved upwards at your words, fairly amused at your joke, but more so that you didn’t really know how right you were.

“I like the salted caramel ones… and the strawberry… the white chocolate, milk, dark…” he listed, his frown deepening the further along he went. His face flushed; a pretty pink blush under the silvery-white scars. Your mouth twisted to contain a chuckle at how cute he looked.

“A man of good taste,” you hummed, placing a finger on your chin. He smiled at your pensive expression as you elbowed him lightly, joshing around. He’d been best friends with the Marauders for years, but never before had he felt so in on a joke. “I like the Howling Moon bars, myself.”

He made a face, scrunching his nose up like a child refusing their broccoli. “I don’t like wolves much.”

“I don’t know,” you mused, crossing your arms and rolling your head to face him. “I think they’re kind of cool.”

He stared at you for a moment, fully aware that he was reading way too far into what, to you, was most likely just a throwaway comment to a stranger in a sweetshop. He couldn’t deny, though, the pull he had towards you; he had this strange feeling that it wasn’t luck that you’d quite literally bumped into each other. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

“I’m Remus,” he said, shooting you a handsome half-smile that almost had your knees buckling.

“I know,” you nodded casually before the weight of your words hit you and you turned to his confused expression with a horror. “I did not mean that.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Well,” you said, scowling. “I did, but I didn’t intend for it to be so creepy-“

“Wasn’t creepy at all,” he chuckled, immediately making you smile in relief. “Well,” he paused, tilting his head to the side. “Perhaps a little.”

With a scoff, you threw your head back and laughed, not quite noticing his shyly prideful smile in response.

“I’m Y/N,” you said eventually, pursing your lips. “And I promise I’m not a stalker.”

“I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I pay attention to you.”

As soon as the words tumbled out of your mouth, you cursed yourself for even having the gall to be born. Honestly, who just let you walk around, saying this and doing that? Remus’ brain short-circuited and for what must’ve been a full minute, you stood in silence as he tried to think of how Sirius would reply; he was always good at flirting and Remus never really cared to learn until he saw you.

“More attention than to where you’re going, I hope,” he rushed, hoping his jab came out in the light-hearted, teasing way he intended. Your shocked expression had him rethinking it until the corners of your mouth curled up and you barked a laugh.

“Very witty, Mr Lupin, very witty indeed.”

Though he’d never admit it, he was quietly smug about the fact that he’d been the one to put such a smile on your gorgeous features.

“So,” you said, grinning at him, pleased with your interaction so far. “The jury’s still out on whether I’m a stalker or not, but is it still out on which chocolate you’re going to get?”

He stared at your comfortable grin, his heart leaping in his chest as he took it in, unable to deny its infectiousness.

“Pick for me,” he insisted, eyes crinkling around the edges as he played with the coins in his hand. “You seem like an expert.”

“That’s a brave choice,” you smirked, slightly chuffed. “You sure?”

“I’d say my sweet tooth is in safe hands.”

“Alright, then,” you said, shrugging. “But only if you’ll do the same.”

He nodded, a borderline embarrassing level of excitement building up in his stomach. “Sounds fair.”

And so, for a few minutes, in perfectly comfortable silence, you stood there, choosing chocolate. Remus even thought that he’d died and gone to Heaven. As he glanced at you, his own chocolate selection in his hand, he could barely concentrate on anything but your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He watched you reach multiple times for different bars before changing your mind and he found himself rather amused at how seriously you were taking the whole thing.

“Okay then,” you said, stepping back from the wall of chocolate, reluctantly tearing your eyes away to see Remus staring at you, smiling with a fond look in his eyes. Your face fell. “I took too long, didn’t I?”

He shook his head, smiling. “It’s an important decision.”

You tilted your head to the side, shooting him a look. “That’s a very nice way of saying I took too long.”

He barely had time to reply, that is if he’d wanted to drag his thoughts away from how easy it was to talk to you.

“Oh!” you said, suddenly remembering that he’d picked a few bars for you. You stared at them greedily as he handed them over, very much aware of your fingertips brushing. “This one,” you said, lifting up one bar. “Is my favourite chocolate ever. This, I was debating picking for myself before I bulldozed you earlier. And this, well this I’ve never even seen before but I’m excited to-“

“Oi, Remus,” A boy shouted from the doorway of the shop, drawing your attention. You watched with barely contained amusement as a dry look overtook Remus’ features and he he shot you an apologetic glance before turning around.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he insisted to a boy you now recognised as Sirius Black, quite the character at Hogwarts. He looked between the you and Remus with growing mischief, an amused grin growing lazily on his face.

“Take all the time you need!” he yelled, before shooting you a wink and shutting the door, leaving you with Remus in a suddenly very silent shop.

“He seems nice,” you whispered, noticing his exasperation. Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“He’s a pillock.”

You laughed at his defeated expression, pleased to see him eventually mirror your smile.

“He seems to think there’s something going on here,” you drawled, hoping he would take a hint. By the way his face lit up even further, you figured he had.

“Well there will be if you don’t give me my chocolates,” he jested lightly, biting his lip as you pushed his shoulder, wishing more than anything that he could spend the whole day, with you, in Honeydukes.

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@loveisblindness

@xinyourdreamsx

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@alittletoomanyobsessions

@peachesandpinks

#Remus Lupin x reader #Remus Lupin imagine #remus lupin #writing #imagine #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter

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burning-clutch · 3 years

Text

If A Ghost Howls In A Forest…

cross posted to a03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30503925 Danny was hoping his time at a summer camp would be ghost-free, and well, of course not. When would things in his life ever NOT involve ghosts? At least he can hope to get some decent rest tonight, right? RIGHT? Warning: mild descriptions of death

-.-.-.-.-

Prompt by: KC Summer Camps is not complete without a courage test of walking to the haunted woods at midnight. Amity Park campers are weirdly prepared for this. Other campers are not sure how to deal with that

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Why are we doing this?”

“It’s a sort of initiation type of thing.”

“But WHY?!”

“For the spooks?”

“I’ll get the lipstick…”

“Wait what?”

Danny sighed as he watched Tucker neander off back to their cabin to fetch the Fenton lipstick ray, ignoring the looks of confusion that was shot his way from the other campers that he didn’t know from school. Dash and Kwan had thankfully been, well, not assholes the WHOLE time they had been in the camp. Though to be fair, it had only been a day in this week long fun filled… whatever this was.

Apparently, while things seemed to start out well they were told around the evening campfire and cookout, (which was mostly just them poking hotdogs on sticks and trying not to burn themselves when they ate them,) they were told about a tradition about the new campers being lead up to spend a few hours on their first night on a midnight hike through the ‘haunted’ woods.

Danny was the first to groan hearing this followed by Tucker. Even Dash and Kwan looked unamused as well as the random soccer player that Danny vaguely recognized from school.

To say the councillors were confused by the amity park kids’ reactions would be selling the gambit of expression the councillors had. Teenagers being put in charge of slightly younger teenagers, yeah, nothing could go wrong here, nothing at all…

Tucker came back and tossed Danny a wrist ray while tucking the lipstick he had retrieved into his shirt pocket. A boy from some small farming town an hour’s drive from the camp shuddered. “Haunted Woods? How are you not worried about dark haunted woods? Ghosts are in there!” he exclaimed.

“Cuz it’s just ghosts right?” The Amity soccer player shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean the story they told us said that right? Those hikers that got hurt and died in the woods still haunt it to this day” Kwan supplied with a roll of his eyes. The jock wiggled his fingers doing a decent impression of the box ghost with an even more intimidating “OoooOOOoooOO”

“Yeah, unless they’re gonna be sporting some cool gore this will be lame,” Dash added with a yawn. “Pass.” Dash waved the councillor off before trying to turn and head off.

“Well, you don’t HAVE to go on the hike. But those who skip out will have to endure the punishment tomorrow. If you wanna peel hundreds of potatoes tomorrow morning at the ass crack of dawn you’re welcome to head back…. We’re also going to label you as a coward too so there’s that.” One of the councillors says with a smug smile on their face.

“Has anyone ever seen anything like that?” A nervous looking twig of a boy asked, wringing his hands nervously.

“Oh I won’t say anything on that matter” The second councillor, Jeff says. At least Danny thinks he remembers the name as Jeff. He should probably learn that given this guy was in charge of the cabin he was staying in, “It’ll be better to leave it as a surprise.”

The first councillor, a jock looking guy, built like a brick house with thick shoulders and neck but a tiny waist and legs looking very much like he needed a few more rounds on leg day, eyed the Amity group with a look as though he were going to try to take scaring them as a challenge. Danny looked the guy over, raising a brow when their eyes locked.

Great, he and Tucker looked like an easy target. He knew that look all too well having spent plenty of time being bullied as well as with angry ghosts who underestimated him. More fun tonight will be had by all he was sure.

“Don’t worry We’ll make sure you’ll get some proper spooks.” the brick house says with what Danny assumed the other thought was an intimidating grin.

Dash snorted. “Fenton’s probably the only one who’ll get scared of the ghosts out there. He runs away from all of them back home.”

“Have you seen my parents? Get too close to a ghost and it picks up some contamination you know exactly what they’ll do!” Danny spat back with a glare of his own only barely managing to stop his eyes from glowing in his rapidly souring mood.

The other kids at the camp blink in confusion. “Wait… You guys are from that tourist town that goes way too far with the ghost theme right?” asked a pale kid with brown hair.

“Oh please, that’s just a gimmick” Answered another kid who crossed his arms in a huff.

“It’s not a gimmick dude, we even have our own superhero!” Kwan answered.

“Uh-huh. Well you’re superhero ain’t gonna save you from the ghosts out here” Jeff shot back, crossing his arms. “Right, Tom?”

The brick house, Tom apparently nodded knowingly. “Yep, these ghosts are very dangerous and angry ya know..”

“So? It IS Monday,” Tucker offered flatly, earning a snort from the soccer player.

“Can we just… not do this?” A darker skinned nervous boy whined holding onto the arm of the brown haired kid reminding Danny of him and Tucker from two years ago before they got jaded from ghost attacks.

Kinda made him wonder what could have been…

“Nope we're going, so move,” Tom ordered taking up the place at the back of the line while Jeff took the place at the front.

Danny groaned. “Wonder if there will be any ghosts in there?” He wonders to tucker as they were all forced into a line for their ‘spooky’ hike.

“Maybe it’ll be one of Vlad’s abominations?” Tucker suggested.

“Honestly I wouldn't be surprised.” Danny sighed back with a frown. At least if it was a real ghost his ghost sense would alert him to the danger before they got too close.

They entered the treeline and started heading up a hill and towards the supposed site where the hikers had fallen and gotten trapped by a rock or something falling on them. Their legs were broken and crushed and stuck in place, they apparently died unable to get food or drink and unable to free themselves alone, and not able to scream loud enough for help. They still haunt this area… apparently.

Danny had to admit while the tragedy would be able to spawn a ghost but he also doubted there was one sentient around here if there was a ghost at all. He couldn’t sense very high ectoplasmic concentrations around here. Any ghosts that weren’t purely animalistic in nature wouldn’t last long out here without a boost of ecto-energy.

Which means if there was an animal ghost, that boost of energy could come from attacking humans or eating things as animals tend to do... Again attacking humans but instead of feasting on their emotions, well it’s just getting mauled.

More than anything it meant that if there was a malevolent ghost out there that they would have to be on their toes, and Tucker would have to run interference to make sure no one sees Phantom this far from Amity Park.

Well, at least none of the Amity park residents see Phantom this far from Amity.

As they walked up towards the crescent of the hill they noticed it was significantly colder, though it wasn’t a ghostly cold, at least those from Amity knew it wasn’t. The other kids though?

“Oh, man… Why is it so chilly?!” “You think that means the ghosts are close?” “No way man stop saying stupid stuff.”

“It’s probably the river,” Tucker said simply, pointing to the side where there was a winding stream just below the side of the hill. “The way the winds are blowing it’s cooling this area more.”

Danny smirked at his friend's explanation. It was a neat trick sure, but it wasn’t enough to scare the Amity kids. Frowning but not discouraged, the councillors led their troupe up and around towards a cave that was making a moaning noise every time the wind blew.

“They say this is where the hikers were killed, just at the mouth of this tunnel looking for shelter,” Tom says smirking, enjoying the shudders some of the younger teens were giving at the howls of the tunnel. “If you listen you can hear them screaming still.”

“The wind in the tunnel opening?” Kwan asked helpfully.

“No, it’s the howls of the damned.” Jeff encouraged

“And if you look close enough you can sometimes make out the glowing soul of their spirits,” Tom added ignoring the Amity jock.

“Oh neat! I didn’t know they had Panellus stipticus in this area!” The soccer jock said overly happily.

“Dude, when did you become a nerd.” Dash huffed out teasingly.

“I’m studying Bio to get into Uni for Mycology. Dude mushrooms are totally awesome.” Came the smug reply.

“You would know Kevin” Dash snapped back

“Moving on!” Tom called out before shooing the kids away. This was not going according to plan at all… Why are these Amity kids so prepared for this?! Well, hopefully, the next bit will get them…

As they round the cave towards a small rocky outcropping the councillors do their best to draw the younger teen’s attention towards the crevasse where there was supposedly still a shoe from one of the deceased hikers. “If y’all look hard enough you’ll find it I’m sure~,” Jeff told them.

Frowning the kids shined flashlights down into the ditch looking about before one kid called out, “I found a shoe!”

As they did several things happen at once. There was a roaring sound of pain before someone came bolting out of the woods with yellow and green glowing spots all over them. Tucker raised a brow but side-eyed Danny who shrugged.

The Amity kids watched in more confusion than fear as the ‘ghost’ ran out of the woods towards them and took a swipe at one of the youngest teens in their group. “So that’s your ghost? Lame.” Dash huffed out arms crossed. “It’s not even the right colours.” he added with a wave of his hand ignoring the screeching of some of the other kids who were clearly more startled by the ‘ghost’ than he was.

“So, can we go now?” Danny asked with a yawn as the ghost, or really one of the councillors with broken glow stick goo all over them came close to him with an ‘oooooOOOOoooo’

“You guys really didn’t even flinch?!” the ‘ghost complained.

“Oh hey, there you go now THAT looks more convincing.” Someone says just as Danny’s breath fogged a bit before his face.

The halfa looked to where his ghost sense had pointed him to see a big giant green drooling monster beast glaring at the humans towering over the majority of even the tallest in the group. “Yeah, that looks more like a ghost! How’d you do that?” The soccer player said, (Danny really needed to learn his name)

Tom and Jeff and the ‘ghost’ that was harassing Danny all yelp and take a few steps back while the non-Amity kids scrabble and scatter back the way they came.

“No he’s real,” Danny offers with a sigh of exasperation. “Here Cujo down!”

The beast barked and wagged its tail before shrinking down and giving a yip of delight before rushing over to Danny, legs never fully touching the ground as he flew over to the boy.

“Heel! Sit!” Danny calls out stopping the dog in its tracks before the beast could cover him in glowing green slobber.

Cujo did just that sitting practically on Danny’s feet and wiggling his tail so fast it made his butt jiggle back and forth in the effort. The teen sighed and scooped the wiggling beast up into his arms with little effort, mostly due to the fact that ghost dogs only weigh half of what their flesh and bone counterparts would.

“Figures Fent-freak would have a freaky ghost dog” Dash taunted crossing his arms though when Cujo growled, Dash’s smug smile fell.

“Tha-That’s?” Jeff stammered out, pointing a shaking finger at the wiggling green bean in Danny’s hands.

“A typical Amity park ghost yeah,” Danny replied with a grin. “So it's cool if we call this hike a night I’m kinda hoping to get some sleep, that’s kinda why I wanted to come here to catch up on that more than anything…” Danny admitted the last part a little quieter as he put Cujo back down.

The councillor nodded dumbly, moving back away from the teen and the ghost dog, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to bolt when Danny picked up a stick and threw it for Cujo to fetch.

“Awe man I think I stepped in Fen-turd’s dog’s invisible crap!” Dash complained as they all started moving back, Cujo yipping as he came back with the stick giving a snort at Dash before loyally following alongside Danny and phasing through trees as they walked.

Seeing this, Tom decided that it would be best if he hurried back to the cabins to get them ready for the new campers. Yes, That’s exactly what he’s doing…

“Dude you can’t seriously be thinking of keeping Cujo around here he’ll destroy the camp,” Tucker muttered to Danny watching the little pup chase its tail as he followed them.

“Eh, It’s not really fair to keep him in the thermos for the week. Besides I’m sure I can use this guy to get you that extra helping of bacon you wanted.” Danny bribed his friend.

Tucker’s eyes light up and he grins brightly “Cujo here boy! Come see the T-man!”

Danny rolled his eyes, but so long as that was the only ghost they encountered out here, he might actually have a decent week of sleep ahead of him.

He can only hope.

Besides, using Cujo as a threat to Dash sounded like as good a plan as any, and if the councillors were too scared to go near the ghost dog that they would let him sleep in, all the better for him.

Danny smirked, perhaps camp wouldn’t be so bad after all~

-.-.-.-.-.-

Complete Total: 2363

#phic phight 2021 #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #camp fun #Danny is done with ghosts #he just wants to sleep

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leftonraed · 3 years

Text

The Night We Met - Episode 7

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 5.9 k summary — Everything seems set fair for Taehyung and his niece, except you’re not in the picture much to their dismay. Warnings – smut scenes ahead, nothing too extreme I promise ;] Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

It must have been the tenth time Taehyung’s skimming his completed adoption request. His parents who arrived a little while ago let him have some peace and quiet in the short minutes they’ve got left before the hearing.

His arms are resting on his knees and his hair hides his face from anyone walking down the large hallway. He relaxes his wrists, forcing himself to stare at anything else but the paper in his hands and calm his nerves.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of anything to disconnect from the noise of people buzzing around.

His mind takes him away for a moment, far enough to make his parents’ conversation nothing but a string of indistinct words. He’s being taken back to this morning, back to his earliest thought of the day – you.

He’d instantly conjured up a picture of you as soon as he had felt your arms wrapping around his body beneath the covers. His lips had stretched in a lazy smile while his hands slid down above yours. The feeling of your lips kissing the skin of his nape had thieved a soft groan of pleasure.

He’d turned around, taken his place between your legs, rubbing against their softness in slow moves before seeking your mouth blindly. You’d hugged him tight, answering his kiss just as zealously.

Taehyung isn’t sure how but he can still smell the scent your neck was giving off. It’s like you’re with him all over again.

The needy moan you had let escape once you had felt him pushing deeper within, had had him rolling his hips against yours for the first time, silently requesting more of those.

The notion of your presence in his embrace was overwhelming. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He’d offered you some respite and buried his face in your neck and hair, thrusting harder, squeezing tighter, inhaling deeply as much as possible.

He could hear you, gasping by his ear while stifling you with his love. Your nails had dug in his back as his name had escaped you in a tired pant. He’d smothered you in a possessive and comforting hold as he had helped you ride out the sudden burst.

He’d followed closely, trapping his throaty grunts in your mouth with a demanding kiss while he was filling you up with more of himself.

Taehyung had never opened his eyes the whole time, he didn’t want to, he wanted to keep you here, underneath and stuck to him simply because it felt right.

Once the pleasurable feeling had worn off, he eventually blinked himself awake, only to be surrounded by a deafening silence and the absence of you.

He felt hot, exhausted and wet. The pillow was sticking to his face uncomfortably when he pulled himself up on his arms to glance down where you were supposed to be. He was left to discover himself in the mess you had driven him to make.

“Taehyung!”

He opens his eyes and looks up in surprise at the loud call from his father.

“You left the poor girl calling for you for a whole minute.”

He recognizes and finally acknowledges Hina’s teacher bent towards him. She had graciously accepted to take part in the hearing in his favor.

“Oh- Hum, I’m- I’m so sorry. I-”

“Don’t worry. I was telling your parents that I’d probably be elsewhere if I was in your shoes.”

“Right,” he trails, smiling awkwardly.

“Your face… It’s hum- a little red, are you okay?”

He shakes his hair in front of his eyes, hiding away in embarrassment, ineluctably forced to remember the last image he had of himself from this morning.

“You sure? You’re getting redder.”

Luckily, she’s cut off by Hina’s sudden burst of joy at his sight, who comes running their way under the smiles of his parents. Her grandparents are walking behind along with Choi Seoyoung.

Just as everyone is done greeting each other, the door leading to the adoption court judge opens welcoming everyone in.

********************************

Now reunited for good, it feels like the past three months away from each other never happened. Taehyung learns to cherish even more the moments in Hina’s company, indirectly ensuring himself he’s still a special place in her heart.

He makes time for her, from now on family will always come first. It took a couple of weeks for Hina to feel safe in his absence again and stop feeling like being him was going to be ephemeral.

On the other hand, Taehyung’s insecurities were directed towards his career, he struggled to make sense of his desires and priorities. Should I take a break? Should I quit? He still very much liked singing and writing music but one thing he was certain of, he’d need to make some changes in their interest.

One day Hina asked where you had gone and he realized all this questioning made him almost forget about you for the longest time ever.

After she had been taken away from him, he’d become aware he had no means to get in touch with you. He’d never needed your phone number because you had always been around. He’d never seen you use one when he came to think about it. He remembered the gym place you worked at but his touring abroad and busy schedule prevented him from visiting it right after you’d left.

He questioned one of the staff members in charge of human resources but the equipment had been improved and the data with any reference to you had been lost.

He just couldn’t believe it. In this day and age, he couldn’t find you. Just like this, you had vanished.

Hina was just as disheartened when he told her. She made him hate his helplessness all the more.

*********************************

It’s the end of the year.

Parents and children are huddled in front of the school doors, talking animatedly. Taehyung keeps his distance as he ends his chat on the phone with his mother.

“I think I got it the first fifteen times you said it,” he whines. “I’ll give you 4K HD Hina, the singer. Don’t worry. I won’t miss a thing from it. No, still nothing. I don’t think I’ll- we’ll ever see her again. Hm… She tries her best, you know, to not be sad about it but- yeah… It sucks. You should’ve come with dad. It could’ve helped her cheer up a little... I know. Make sure he waits three hours before he takes those pills again.”

The afternoon sunlight is harsh on his eyes when he takes a look and he has to turn around. He’s on his own, save the two or three people lingering outside, on their phones as well.

“You know, your brother must be very thankful to have you.”

Taehyung smiles awkwardly at his feet, shifting his weight.

“I hope she’s not disappointed because it’s just me. I hope he’s watching too, she rehearsed very seriously.” He makes his mother giggle. “I listened to her so many times… I just might as well go and sing with them.”

“You’d look cute.”

“I hope you really don’t plan on doing that. That’s not what I came here for.”

Taehyung turns around instinctively when he hears the sudden voice behind him but the sun hits his face barely letting him see anything even with his eyes covered.

He frowns, blinking as his eyes adjust and freezes.

That dress, he wonders.

The stranger gets closer until the sun is fully hidden behind and Taehyung feels blessed with an even more dazzling view when he recognizes you.

“Mom, I- I’ll call you later.” He trails, locking his phone as he can’t look away.

“Hi,” you say.

You’re here. You came.

You stare back, breaking into a lopsided smile when he’s still not replying.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out.

You wait, the time needed for you to take him in after all those months away and appreciate how he’s changed.

It’s your first time seeing him looking this elegant and formal and it suits him. His hair looks a little shorter. You’re glad to find him doing much better than when you’d left.

Your name is the first thing that he eventually lets out. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” fixing your eyes on him with a soft smile. “I made a promise, remember?”

******************

Taehyung lets you lead the march after you’ve scolded him for making you two late. He finds himself glancing down at your hand holding his and at your back, staring shamelessly at the way the fabric hugs your flawless figure.

“It’s packed.” Your voice snaps him back in reality.

“Shit,” he mutters while looking around. “I promised her I’d sit in the front row.”

“This way,” you say but he doesn’t have time to react as you pull him strongly.

You find a bench on a high level.

“What are you doing? We’re all the way back now.”

“Stop whining and take my hand.” You say after climbing up the bench.

He listens and pulls himself up next to you. From this position, you can see the stage with no hindrance but it’s still quite distant.

The curtains are drawn and a group of toddlers is seen waiting behind. A few of them seem not to have moved away from their assigned position but most are either fooling around or look distressed, seeking their teachers and own parents.

Taehyung and you immediately find Hina, right in the center, standing tall and quiet as she skims the crowd. She slightly frowns when she still can’t see him after a third try until–

“Hina!”

She looks up and gazes further away where she’s heard the sudden call coming from. Her eyes widen at your sight.

You wave energetically ignoring the curious looks you’re drawing to yourself and Taehyung. He is staring as well, surprised. He looks back and feels warmth spreading in his entire being at her happiness.

“You can do this!”

Hina lifts her small arm to wave back, fighting the urge to run to you two.

“Yes, Hina! You can do this! Papa is so proud of you!”

“Thank you dad for your supporting words.” A voice suddenly announces in a microphone and laughter rises in the room making Taehyung turn a bright red while you stifle a chortle.

The voice continues, establishing silence, claiming the beginning of the show as the lights are dimmed.

He remembers to get his phone camera ready before the first notes echo. You never lose sight of Hina.

The children’s voices mingle in a surprisingly good harmony when the first lyrics are heard. You feel your heart thumping loudly in your chest as you listen to them, recognizing the lullaby you used to whisper to Hina so she’d fall asleep back during the trip.

Taehyung falters a quick second when you suddenly clasp your finger around his wrist. Making sure Hina’s still in the frame, he turns his head to look at you, noticing how emotional you’re getting.

***************

Less than an hour later, the show ends to thunderous applause. Taehyung guides you to the side where children come out to join their family. You don't have a chance to think of something to say to each other when you suddenly feel small arms wrapping around your knees in a tight embrace.

You instantly smile at Hina when you see her looking up delighted and crouch down to pick her up.

“Did you miss me?” You feel her nodding against your shoulder while she hugs your neck tight. “I missed you too. So much. You did so well back there. I really loved your singing.”

She leans back to look at you and holds your face to crash kisses all over your cheek under Taehyung’s jubilant gaze.

You put her down but she quickly catches your hand in hers and hugs one of his legs.

He pats the crown of her head and looks up at you. “I’m really glad you made it.”

You share a smile but get interrupted again as a small group of children comes surrounding you three.

“You’we Hina mommy?” asks a little girl, her neat ponytail swinging behind her.

Five pairs of eyes stare up at you in total amazement as small ‘ahhs’ and ‘ohhs’ are heard.

“Hina mommy is so beautiful!” Cheers a little boy, more excited than he should be.

“I’m not-” You begin, a little taken aback, looking for help from Taehyung but he only keeps smiling. He’s taking too much pleasure in seeing you flustered.

“I know.” Hina boasts with closed eyes.

A couple of looks lingers before one of them suddenly suggests playing elsewhere.

You decide to get out of the school when Hina complains about being hungry.

She peeks over his shoulder to ask, “you coming home with daddy and Hina?”

You meet Taehyung’s expectant eyes and your chest squeezes at their seemingly hopeful looks.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ve somewhere to go.”

“I could drive you if you want,” he starts, tilting his head in the direction you guess his car is parked.

“Don’t bother, I-... You remember Shownu? I told him to come get me.”

They pout at the same time and it makes you chuckle lightly at their likeness though Taehyung tries not to look too affected. He’s hesitating and not so sure anymore about what he initially wanted to say.

Hina suddenly turns away from you to frown in his neck.

“What’s that?” He asks when he doesn’t understand her the first time. “You want _____ to come home with us?”

You gaze at the back of her head with a sad smile and meet his gaze in silence.

I’d like that too.

“Seems like I was right, huh,” he snaps you out of your thoughts. “That dress looks really good on you.”

You look down, blushing a little and nod in agreement. Silence falls again between you. You don’t show any intention to go yet as Taehyung gets lost in his thought.

What are you waiting for?

“CanIgetyournumber?”

“What?” You cock your head.

“Your number? So we can see each other. I mean with Hina too.”

You nod, seemingly accepting his suggestion because the reason he mentioned is a self-evident fact. “Sure.”

You exchange your contact information and you eventually walk away much to his dismay. Hina finally decides to look back when you’re already so far away.

She frowns at your silhouette. “Hina sad.”

“Don’t be, baby,” he cups her cheek to kiss her other one. “We’ll see her again.”

**************************

You’re the one texting first and Taehyung’s glad you do when he’s too upset with himself for not finding the courage to do so. You agree to meet one night and make sure either of you doesn’t do anything the following day because Taehyung wants to invite you to his concert he’s currently holding in the biggest stadium of the country for the whole weekend.

When you arrive half an hour before the beginning, you’re taken to a corridor left inaccessible to fans that leads to a platform positioned in front of the stage and in the middle of the pit above the fans gathered around. You notice some curious look thrown your way.

There you get to meet the CEO of the company Taehyung works for along with some of his employees.

The show is a big hit.

You’ve felt it the first seconds after Taehyung was revealed and the audience roared impressively.

It all feels a little overwhelming but seeing him in this new light makes you feel all kinds of way. You recognize the man you’ve worked for but he seems so foreign. The aura coming from him is nothing you’ve seen before yet has you enticed through his moves, his looks, his voice.

The crowd leaves bit by bit. You remember him telling you to wait for him right where your seat was assigned to you, saying your goodbyes to his boss.

The venue is now empty, you go down the stairs and notice Taehyung down the corridor chatting with someone on his way up.

You exchange a smile.

You shorten the space between you, you watch him eye you from head to toe as his thumb grazes his bottom lip. You look away. He stops before he gets a whiff of your fragrance, eyelids heavy. You take his hand when he stretches it to you.

“I took some time cause I was showering.” He explains pulling you to the parking lot.

You climb in his car.

“You okay with eating out? We can always order something and eat at home if you’re too tired.”

He swivels the wheel with one hand, running the car out of the premises and making the powerful engine roar while looking at you. “Don’t worry about me.”

The silence between you is comfortable but the atmosphere feels heavy with secret intentions.

“I really liked the show by the way,” you say softly while keeping your eyes on the scenery passing by.

“Yeah?”

“Hm,” you turn your head towards him with a playful look. “But I still prefer Hina’s singing.”

“I have to admit, she rehearsed that song more than I ever did my whole discography.”

Dinner is nice and quiet. Taehyung isn’t fond of talking while eating and you're thankful, it allows you to enjoy the food and himself in a comfortable way.

*************************

You’re back in the car and driving away after you’ve agreed to go to his home and see Hina.

“I got my diploma. Last week.” You share, “I’m finally able to work as a personal trainer.”

“Really? Congratulations,” he genuinely exclaims while checking the rearview mirror. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but for some reasons I’ve also managed to get a contract with a model agency? I don’t know where this is coming from.”

“Well, they simply saw potential in you. I mean your body is perfect- I-I- I mean you work hard to stay fit so… They’d miss out if they didn’t take you..” He trails, mentally slapping himself.

You simply smile to yourself.

************************

The door unlocks and you both see Hina and the babysitter he got for the night sitting in the living-room. As soon as Hina notices you, she darts your way to crash against your legs.

“________!!”

“You’re still awake?” Wonders Taehyung, looking down not to step on her toes.

You hug and lift her in your arms after getting rid of your shoes. You greet the young girl as Taehyung takes care of paying her. You hear her letting him know she tried everything in her power to get the little girl to bed as you sit down and cover Hina with kisses and sweet words.

The door closes a little after.

“Come here. Brush your teeth, go pee and right to bed.”

“No!” She challenges with a frown at him. “I staying with ________.”

He calls her name with a strict tone making her pout and you can’t help but hug her protectively.

“Let me take care of it,” you suggest softly to him.

You carry out her nighttime routine like you used to, noticing how independent she has become which makes you yearn younger Hina.

You let her lead the march to her room, meeting Taehyung on the way and chuckles when she closes the door to prevent him from interrupting your time together.

“Do you want me to read you a book?” You smile once she settles under her covers.

She shakes her head and reaches for your hand. You understand she wants you to lie next to her. You indulge without a word.

“_______,” her voice is already filled with sleep some time after you’ve started running your fingers through her silky hair. “You staying with Hina foweve’?”

You hum back.

“Daddy likes ______.”

You look down at her, smiling faintly.

“He says it a lot. Hina likes _______ mowe.”

You squeeze her gently against you.

“________?” She’s speaking more slowly now. “Pwomise... mommy staying with Hina... and daddy... foweve’.”

***************

“Sleeping?”

You noticed Taehyung’s already changed in his sleepwear. You nod while closing her door as quietly as possible. “Like a log.”

He stands up before you get the chance to get close to one of the couches and leads the way to his bedroom.

You wait at the doorstep, watching him browsing clothes inside his wardrobe while in the dark. He shuffles towards you, holding what looks like to be a silky pyjamas.

“I think this will do,” he trails. You take it, thanking him. “You can change here. I was going to open a bottle of wine. You want some?”

You shake your head.

Taehyung walks back in his room when you don't come out, holding one glass and minds turning off the lights on his way.

It takes him a couple of seconds to remark your silhouette on the other side of the curtains, standing in the balcony where you’re enjoying the weak, gentle breeze of this summer night.

He draws one curtain and immediately notices you’ve decided to do without the pants which pulls a knowing smile from him. It shouldn't surprise him. The shirt is long enough to work as a mini dress on you.

You look over your shoulder when you hear the door sliding. He’s staring longer than he’s meaning to but you find it adorable.

He comes to stand right by your side and takes a sip, looking for something to say.

“It’s so quiet.”

“You don’t like it.”

“You should put on some music.” You suggest, tilting your chin towards his phone in his pocket.

“What do you want to listen to?”

“I’m sure you got some exclusive sounds, I could brag about. It’s your chance to upgrade your raking.” You smile when you see him grin too as he goes through files. “You’re not working on anything?”

“I actually am. But it’s a secret for now. I’ve made... thirteen songs. But they’re still very rough. I don’t think we should listen to them.”

“Come on, you know I won’t judge you.”

He looks down with an embarrassed smile, frowning a little. “They’re really not good.”

“I’m not pressuring you. It’s just the two of us now.” You say softly, not breaking eye contact. “We can always find something else.”

He can’t hold your gaze long enough without feeling his face heat up. “Okay, I’ll share one or two.”

You look down at the streets when the first notes are heard, knowing he won’t want to meet your eyes.

“So where’s your manager?” You ask to ease his anxiety. You’re too aware of yourself trying not to sound too interested while keeping your gaze on the cars driving by. “I thought I’d see her at the concert.”

“Uh oh, we’re not working together anymore.” You hum in response. He explains,“conflicts of interests.”

You’re now hearing lyrics sung very softly, setting a comfortable atmosphere. “Does that mean…”

“Yeah, I’m basically managing myself.” He chuckles to himself, smiling a little at you. “I think there’s no other way if I want to live life the way I have in mind.”

You agree silently, not really knowing what to say back.

“I think she liked me. Too much.”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course I enjoyed being with her but not exactly for the same reason I think.”

The song is the only thing heard for a couple of seconds but Taehyung doesn’t seem to be minding it anymore.

“Are you and Shownu…?”

You instantly look up at him when you hear him mentioning his name and rephrase his question when he’s not finishing. “Are we a thing?” He nods slowly once. ”No. No, no, no. I mean he’s nice but... He’s not really… my type.”

He looks away, humming a quick acknowledgement. He finishes his glass. “What’s your type?”

You tilt your head away from him, smiling to yourself. His phone plays the second song.

“I wouldn't know how to describe it. I just know when I meet the person, you know?”

“Yeah, I- Me too.”

You hesitate a little before you speak again.

“Apparently,” you wait for him to look at you to show your innocent eyes. “You like me. A lot.”

He smiles but doesn’t flee your gaze, “who told you that?”

“I can’t reveal my source,” you turn your head away, closing your eyes. You open one to see him looking at you, amused. “I can only say it has the figure of a… little snoring cutiekins.”

He shakes his head to himself. “Of course.”

You find yourself staring at his gorgeous-looking profile, admiring the way his perfect hair falls around his face. “So… You like spending time with me?”

“It wasn’t obvious enough?” He gets shy again.

“Honestly, I can’t recall.”

“What?” He asks with surprise. “Are you being serious?”

“I mean, I was working for you. And we weren’t always on our own. Making assumptions about these things would have been wrong on my behalf. Especially with you. I didn’t want to risk my job.”

“I see.”

He looks down at his empty glass then back up at you when he hears you take in a deep breath.

“I also didn’t want to risk never seeing you or Hina ever again.”

You can see something kindle in his dark eyes, rendering you quiet and captivated. He doesn’t seem like he’s moving but you can definitely tell you’re both getting closer and closer.

“And now?” His voice sounds hopeful.

Your eyes gaze up and down, noticing his lips barely agape. “Now?”

You almost freeze when you feel his breath fanning you delicately. You both remain stagnant for a while which seems to last indefinitely, keeping yourselves apart from each other and foreign from what is to come if you were to give in to those tacit, forbidden desires.

Taehyung can feel his heart beating so vividly at the prospect of tasting your lips. You’re right there. Why is he suddenly feeling so bold? Why is he hesitating?

“_____-”

You don’t allow him to finish and choose to be the one to take the plunge.

The kiss is timorous at first, gentle, barely touching, yet ignites, as intimacy settles, a submerging feeling that diffuses into your two beings.

He’s the first to moan, you to grab onto him, each demanding more of that taste you can’t do without now that you’ve quickly come to like it.

You force yourself out of rapture with reluctance, testing the waters and it only draws him back in like a magnet, quietly surrendering to what you started.

His skin is soft against your face but his arms are strong around your back as they secure you against his chest. His scent overwhelms you, almost in a smothering way but it doesn’t feel wrong. It’s simply foreign. You’ve never got to smell so much of him this long, this strongly. You eventually moan in response.

Taehyung pushes his face harder against yours as a result, tilting your heads. He’s euphoric and he can feel it in his stomach, in his heart, in yours the longer he keeps you rooted against his body, sensing them pulsate in unison, frenzied.

You push back, blindly guiding him to one of the two reclining chairs he got settled for whenever good weather presents itself. He lets himself fall down but not too quickly, not if it means he’d have to break apart from you. You can feel him grip the back of your thighs and have your body straddling his.

You notice his mouth reaching again for yours when you eventually pull away for air. He allows you some respite, watching dazed as you rest your forehead against his, smiling to yourself a little.

When you open your eyes, you stare down at your hand beneath which his chest is heaving with desire.

You feel one of his hands reaching for your hip, under his borrowed shirt. Your eyes fall close again and your breath gets caught in your throat once spasms begin taking over your lower region because of the closeness of his touch.

“You okay?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you yearn for more of that intimacy.

You let out a shaky breath you weren’t aware of holding. “It felt good.”

His fingers squeeze you comfortingly. You meet his eyes and your core tightens on its own, hard. It’s dark out here and in spite of that you can see he’s craving you. So badly.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, impatiently.

Fuck.

“Kiss me, _______... Please.”

You stare back, fascinated by so much beauty and yearning. Your mouth falls agape and his eyes instantly glance down.

You chuckle lightly, “if someone saw us right now. You’d be in so much trouble.”

“I don’t fucking care.” He replies immediately, grabbing onto the nape of your neck. Your lips remain at a hair breadth from his now.

You never thought your self-control to be that easily challenged, you want to laugh at yourself. Who would’ve thought?

You poke your tongue to lick his bottom lip looking so inviting, leading him to capture your mouth in a deep kiss. You weave your fingers into his smooth locks, tugging them at the first caress of his tongue around yours.

Yes, you instantly think, fuck them all. This is what matters.

Your other hand takes his off your neck to have it latch on one of your breasts. He’s closing it gently around at the touch of it.

You break the sloppy kiss to trail wet pecks along his jaw and beneath his ear. You hastily unbutton the shirt. “Put your hands on me, Tae.”

He slides an arm around the small of your back at the sight of your bare torso for him to feast on and guides your crotch to push down against his.

Your heart suffers another sudden fit of palpitation at the feeling of his arousal pressing promisingly where you need it the most. His mouth is unsparing against your skin, kissing, licking, sucking it until it has you yielding to your own needs.

Taehyung stops and pants icy, hot air where his tongue wetted you at the feeling of your hips rocking with lustful urges.

He leans back on the chair, head thrown back with his eyes closed, relishing the delightful motions of your body.

“Oh… Fuck…” His nails dig in your ass the more you keep easing tension out of his hard shaft.

You tilt forward, closer, never stopping your sensual dance and he feels it. He gazes up at you under heavy lids, admiring the beautiful view of his shirt open on your naked chest, skin still moist with his saliva, nipples pointing enticingly.

He feels lightheaded.

You comb your hair back to allow yourself a view of the splendor that is Taehyung turned on.

You let out a small groan at the unexpected twitch of his cock. By now, you’re sure you’ve made an embarrassing mess of your panties and you’re also certain he can smell it.

You watch him reach for one of your breasts to suck on the sensitive nipple. You frown down at him, moaning as quiet as you can. He cranes his neck to lick his way up yours to your ear.

“You look great in my clothes.” You smile at his whisper.

“I want to see you too.”

He fulfills your wishes quickly, pulling the back of his tee-shirt above his head, serving you the tantalizing image of his muscular arms and shoulders. You bite your lip, sharing a smile and your hips pick up in pace.

You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head to your chest, while he hugs you to him tightly, looking into each other’s eyes. You’re both growing desperate.

“I want you so bad,” he can hear the hopelessness in your voice and it has him oozing more in his briefs. He never thought he’d ever hear you say those words to him. However, he hates how it reminds him of his neglect in equipping himself for the occasion. He never planned any of it.

He’s certain he doesn’t want to put an end to your bliss, not when you’re on top of him, ready to give yourself, not never.

Taehyung mouths at your cleavage, listening to the plethora of pleading escaping you the longer you keep rubbing yourselves together and struggles not to give in already.

The fresh breeze is long forgotten now, it feels hot and sweaty against his body but you’ve passed your point of no return. He’s felt your body becoming tense, seeking the peak of pleasure.

You manage to grunt in between gasps. “... Close…”

“Yeah?” He wonders quietly, trying to keep you on your stimulus.

You furrow your brow, seeing him gazing back with so much adoration it catches you unawares, triggering intense pleasure washing over you in waves. He helps muffling you, comforting your shaking body.

The forceful press of his erection overstimulates you in good pain. Your arms are tight around his shoulders, helping you root yourself while the final tremors wear off.

You don’t want to move away. He doesn’t want to let go either.

He reluctantly moves his arms only when he feels you trying to lean back. He breaks into a shy chuckle but you capture his lips in a needing kiss. You’re quickly out of breath.

“You’re shaking,” he trails softly. You weren’t even aware of it, lost again in his mesmerizing looks. “Was it okay?”

You nod subtly, cupping the back of his head to bring your faces closer. “Yeah… You?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You answer his gentle kiss. “Let’s go inside.”

***********************

You wake up alone in the gigantic bed, almost engulfed in the mess of sheets and thick covers. Yes, even in summer they’re of use, if you get to spend a night in his bedroom.

Your mind is fuddled, partly because of the short night you had but it’s also quick to remember flashes of it, having you musing on them with a blushing face.

You sit up and locate his tee-shirt, his borrowed shirt, your panties, his briefs thrown across the floor and your abashed smile comes again.

You’re walking down the corridor and can’t shake away the strangeness of it now that you’re seeing his home in broad daylight many months after, not as his bodyguard but as you. You stop before either Taehyung or Hina can notice your presence and take your time watching them be around each other, the way it was meant this whole time.

Your gaze travels from Hina’s back facing you to him and you mindlessly begin biting your lips, gawking at him working in the kitchen, attending to her needs and just being the best person for her. His messy hair and bare chest are a bonus.

He’s a natural. Your chest tightens at the sight of him and at the thought of it.

A heavy sigh escapes you.

“Mind joining us?”

You get startled by his voice and find them looking at you with big smiles. You shake your head to yourself.

Hina is elated raising her arms in the air from her seat for you to indulge into a tight hug. You don’t forget to kiss her cheek, unable to keep yourself from grinning from ear to ear at her sudden burst.

You sit on the stool across her where a bowl of rice and a full glass of orange juice have been placed. She can’t take her eyes off of you. You mind the frying pan he’s holding as he shakes a fried egg on top of the rice.

“‘Morning you,” he trails in a deep voice. He swiftly steals a kiss and walks away naturally.

You remain stunned a couple of seconds, processing the sudden gesture until you find Hina stifling a titter in her small hands.

#bts scenarios #bts smut #taehyung scenarios #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts imagines #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #bts reactions #bts x oc

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

Fair Game.

T-800 x reader (Terminator: Judgement Day version)

Warnings: sexual themes mentioned, gun use

Context: The T-800 wants to learn to be more human.

A/N: I absolutely love the terminator films, so I will try and write more for them, even though it's not very popular amongst you guys 😅 this is just some idea I've had rattling around in my head, so enjoy!

P.S. To the people who have requested things, I have not forgotten or ignored you! I'm just in the process of writing them out, so I should have one out by tomorrow.💛

Masterlist

The temperature has slowly gotten cooler over the last few hours or so, the sky beginning to darken a little until the last light comes from the rays of sun just cresting over the horizon, casting the landscape in an orange tint. Annoyingly, it also means I can't see what I'm doing, the shape of each separate part of the assault rifle in my hands nearly indistinguishable as they start blurring into each other. A sigh of irritation leaves me as I put them down again, stretching my back as I stand up from the picnic bench again, shaking the stiffness from my joints, my body cramping from sitting in the same position for hours. My hands ache, too, my palms and fingers coated in a layer of gun oil, a result of the rigourous cleaning I've put the weapons through, something which wasn't necessarily required, but I felt like doing anyway, to take my mind off the more gruesome details of the past day or so, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

Just yesterday, John and I were messing around in the arcade, using his hacking skills to our advantage as he stole some money, the two of us having a great time with his friend, who we had to leave behind, for his own safety. A cop went around asking others about John, making the mistake of questioning our friend, who then let us know of the possible danger of being caught, prompting us to run, trying to escape another warning from the feds. From that point onwards, everything went pear shaped: another man appeared from nowhere and shot the cop, who had pulled a gun on us, saving us from certain death as he then gave us time to escape, letting us both get back to our motorcycles, which we promptly used to get away, speeding as quickly as possible down into the aquaducts, where we know our way round pretty well. Leading the cop on a long chase, we soon became very knowledgeable of the fact that our bikes are nowhere near as fast as the truck the cop was chasing us in, meaning we very nearly got hit by it. Long story short, the man from before saved the two of us, before explaining to us what exactly is happening.

Having been in John's close friend circle for most of our time together, the information I learnt was not too surprising; a cyborg (the cop) has been sent back in time from the future to kill him, so he can't lead the resistance against a future mechanized army, a T-1000 made of liquid metal, though another cyborg, a T-800 this time, has been sent back to save him. Having established this, we quickly found that our foster parents had been murdered by the T-1000, leaving the two of us mostly parentless, though John still has his mother, who we broke out of a mental institute last night. And now here we are, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sheltering with a friend of her's called Enrique.

The sound of steady footsteps draws me from my reverie, my head snapping round as I notice the T-800 walking towards me, it's expressionless face mostly in shadow now because of the setting sun. Turning to face him, I pick up the gun components once more and start methodically putting them back together again, trying to ignore him as he comes up to me, annoyed that my mind has formed an attachment to the handsome cyborg already within two days of knowing him.

"You have experience in the use of firearms." It's not a question, but rather a statement, the cyborg's deep, accented voice resonating in my ears.

"My parents, my real parents that is, were fugitives. They showed me how to use weapons from as young as I could hold them. They thought I needed to be ready to protect myself." I laugh dryly, "I never thought they'd actually be right about something."

"This will be useful in the war." He states tonelessly, watching as I slot the magazine back into the stock, loading it ready for immediate use.

"If I make it that far." I murmur, putting the assembled gun back down on the table, turning my body to properly face him, "Did you need something?"

"No. I am trying to learn "small talk". John Connor has told me to be more human, and that is what he recommends." He reveals, standing beside me, his body towering over mine.

"Oh, right, well that's fair game, I guess." I smile, knowing that the bond between my foster brother and the cyborg has grown quickly, which is unsurprising given the willingness to learn on both of their behalf.

"What is "fair game"?" The T-800 looks over at me, brow furrowed slightly.

Stuck for words, I try to figure out how to explain it, only to be distracted by the sight of two of the younger members of the group already living here making out a little way away. Clenching my jaw, I look down at my feet, a pang of jealousy making itself known.

"Its a figure of speech. I use it to clarify whether I think something is a relatively good idea or not." I finally answer him, unable to resist another look at the couple, which he catches and follows.

"Why do you kiss?" He inquires again, watching unashamedly as the couple make out passionately.

"You mean people? People kiss when they are romantically involved with each other, or if they want to reassure each other. It's a sign of love. Not that I'd know." I say the last part quietly, hoping he won't hear it, "Get it?"

"No."

I smile sadly at this, not really expecting him to understand it, given that it is an extension of human affection, something which he does not really know how to do.

"Maybe one day." I say to him wistfully, leaning back against the table behind me.

"Affirmative. I will understand when I have a concept of human behaviour." He states, turning back to face me, standing much closer than before, "What is wrong?"

I look up as he asks this, having been staring at the floor dejectedly, trying to think up whether there will be a "one day" or not. I've always been a pessimist, but situations like this do not help.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little...down, I guess." I explain to him, sighing.

He frowns, clearly confused by the terminology.

"Down meaning sad in this context." I inform the T-800, clarifying what I mean.

A look of understanding dawns on his face, before a look of deep concentration replaces it. Suddenly, he steps forwards, caging me into the table, his hands coming to rest on my hips, pulling me into his hard body. Instinctually, my hands move to lay themselves on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath them move as he picks me up and places me onto the table behind me, pressing closer. Before I can say a word, I feel his lips smooth themselves against mine, their cool, dry surfaces moulding with mine as I reciprocate out of instinct, enjoying the feeling of him kissing me as he wraps his hands around my body. Somehow, he manages to draw my mouth open, slipping his tongue into it to lick at the interior of my mouth, swallowing my moans and grunts of air, his hands slipping under my shirt and onto my bare skin. Arching into him, I card my fingers through his hair, pulling gently as he presses even closer, his abnormal strength pushing me down onto the table beneath me, his muscular arms caging me in underneath his huge body. Propping myself up on my elbows, I try to keep up with him, only to fall back as he pulls away and starts kissing down my neck, easily finding my sweet spot. Licking and sucking at it, he allows his hands to roam over my body to my ass, gripping it gently as he holds me close to his chest.

"What in the hell are you doing?!" John's voice suddenly cuts through the haze of pleasure, drawing my attention away from the T-800, who stops what he is doing to look at the boy, helping me upright again as he answers.

"I am reassuring (Y/n). She told me that kissing is a form of reassurance to people." He recites, looking over at me again, his eyes slightly less dead than normal.

"Generally those kisses don't look like that." John points out, looking slightly disgusted as I try to adjust myself again, embarrassed and flustered as hell.

"What do they look like, then? My files show that that is normal."

"Normal for people who are in love! For other people, it tends to be a quick kiss on the forehead, or cheek!" The boy continues to argue.

"If it makes you feel any better, John, then I feel a lot more relaxed now. It worked really well." I interject, shyly, looking down with my cheeks flushing red.

"Then it is a successful method." The T-800 says, clearly confused.

John goes to reply again, only to be cut off by the sound of a car door slamming. Turning, we see Sarah suddenly climb into the corresponding car, the engine starting as she puts it into drive, not looking back as she leaves the camp, John racing after her, screaming for her.

"Don't try kissing him to reassure him. I don't think it will work for him." I inform the cyborg beside me, smiling up at him as he gives me his own version of one, though it looks much more like a grimace than a smile.

"That is fair game."

#terminator 2 #terminator imagine #terminator #T-800 #T-800 x reader #arnold schwarzenegger

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 15: The Woman of Balnain

Summary: Jamie finally sits down with a certain book.

Read on AO3

Read chp 15 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, masterlist, next

They spent the afternoon in lazy bliss. Together, they’d gone into the kitchen where Jamie had shown her how to whip up a burrito. Although most of it clearly went over her head, she had such a good time that she asked to make something else directly after he finished eating.

After a brief explanation on how humans get full after eating, he gave in and offered to show her how to make cookies.

Jamie felt distantly like his life had turned into a romcom as they baked cookies together. When Claire bumped him teasingly on the side, he grabbed a handful of flour and chucked it straight at Claire. Her mouth fell open in mock dismay before an impish gleam shone in her eye. Jamie learned that afternoon the true reason the word “impish” had originated to describe the fair folk.

Claire was mischievous and exuberant in her retaliations. Handful after handful of baking supplies had been lobbed in his direction, shoved down his clothing, mussed into his hair, and even discreetly snuck into his pockets when he was later occupied with sticking the baking sheets of cookies in the oven. Long after their initial food fight had ended, Claire continued their little game.

Later that afternoon while they sat together on the couch (the faerie’s legs draped over his, Jamie’s hands shoved under his own legs in order to keep from caressing her soft skin that was right there), Claire had produced a handful of oats from nowhere and shoved them down his collar. He’d flung her legs off, grabbed her waist, and threw her over his shoulder without a second thought as she squealed and thrashed. Stalking to the kitchen like a caveman with his prize draped over him, he unceremoniously plopped her down and then dumped an entire bowl of excess flour over her head.

“I give up,” she screeched, smacking blindly at his chest with her flour-caked face still screwed up, puffs of powder exploding from her lips.

“Promise? No more surprise attacks when I let down my guard?” he asked guardedly, trying to keep his grin out of his voice.

“You have my word,” she promised. She gave him a grave, floury nod.

Feeling quite magnanimous now that he’d won, Jamie grabbed a dishtowel, wet it, and then approached Claire.

He cupped the back of her head, feeling her curls tangling between his fingers, and gently wiped the flour from her face. Once her eyelids had been cleaned, she opened them and stared up at him with a soft look. His bones felt like they had been turned to water to be receiving such a look, and he struggled to focus on the task at hand as he tenderly dabbed at the spots of flour still left on her face. She stayed quiet, just looking at him and allowing him to clean up the mess he’d made.

How he loved her.

When the moment finally broke, their gazes tearing apart, Jamie inspected her hair.

“No way I’m gettin’ this out of these curls. Do ye want a shower, a nighean?”

“I would never say no to a shower,” she beamed.

So, he’d graciously turned it on for her and then explained that he was going to get some work done. Leaving her to it knowing full well that she’d be in there for a long time, he headed for his office.

But it wasn’t work he had in mind.

There was another matter tickling at his brain. One he’d been itching at for far too long. He’d barely had time to breathe, let alone sit down and address it, until just this minute.

He needed to read the book that the eccentric bookstore owner had shoved into his hands.

Unsure how to explain the strange interaction to Claire and disinclined to possibly worry her over nothing, Jamie still hadn’t mentioned anything about it. He’d been waiting to read it until he had a moment alone.

Settling into his office chair, Jamie stared down at the cover of the mysterious book. He was motionless for a few seconds, feeling a strange uneasiness.

The title was The Woman of Balnain. It was short, perhaps a novella, and the description on the back said that it was about a time-traveling lass. Why would the mysterious Geillis give this to him?

He was just about to start into reading, but as he opened the book, several sheets of paper suddenly fluttered out and onto his lap. Warily, he picked them up, turning them over to see what appeared to be hastily scrawled notes.

The words at the top made him draw a sharp breath.

“The Standing Stones of Craigh na Dun.”

The following notes seemed like a jumble to Jamie, the words swimming together in his mind in his haste to take them all in. He began to read so fast that several times he had to pause and reread. Geillis— at least he assumed that she was the author of these notes— wrote about planes of reality, magnetic fields, magical properties of the standing stones...

And below that was another section that was entitled “traveling.”

Gemstones. One could travel from this plane to another— through the stones— by use of gemstones. According to this, only some people (or fae, he supposed) could travel. But those who could had discovered that gemstones ensured their safety.

His hand was shaking so hard that he dropped the papers entirely. He brought his trembling hands up to bury his face into them. The gravity of the situation sat heavy on his shoulders as the realization descended.

If this was true, he’d just been handed the way to get Claire back home.

What followed was perhaps an hour of frantic, mind-bending sorting of thoughts. He read and re-read over and over, trying to ensure that he truly had understood the implications of the document. But no matter how many times he reviewed the words on the page, the meaning was clear: If Claire had a gemstone, she could safely use the stones to return to her plane. To her people and her life. Away from him.

But then he spiraled into doubt. How did he know he could trust this mysterious Geillis and her instructions? But as much as he wanted to deny it— to dismiss the entry as garbage and all thoughts of Claire leaving along with it— he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his wame that this was the truth any more than he could refute the fact that Claire deserved a shot at returning home. Besides, something about Geillis had seemed odd… mystical perhaps. Not in the same way Claire did, but he certainly believed that whoever (or whatever) the bookkeeper was, she knew a hell of a lot more about this stuff than he did. And she’d known about Claire. So in the end, while he wasn’t certain that she was a friend per se, he thought it likely she was at least an ally— and he believed what was written on the page was the truth.

Once Jamie had addressed comprehension and credibility, he moved on to his sorrow.

Grief over the thought of losing Claire.

He was no longer lying to himself about the extent of his feelings. He was in love with her, plain and simple. Infatuated, enamored— all those things— but it went deeper than that. She’d walked her way straight into his heart and burrowed in there as sure as she did when she nestled against him in his bed. And now that she’d filled that empty space in his life, he couldn’t even imagine going back to the hollow loneliness of existence without her.

Every part of him longed not to tell her. He could crumple up the page and throw it away, or better yet, he could burn it up without a trace, and she’d be none the wiser.

But his mind swirled with images, memories eating at him that he couldn’t quite ignore. Claire crying against him only a few days ago, weeping for all she’s lost. Her trepidation as she’d faced the terrifying unknown of the city. The sheen of tears in her eyes that she’d fought back as she admitted Jenny had made her scared…

As he thought about all she’d been through since being ripped from her home, he knew that taking away the chance to return would be unfair. He wanted to be selfish— God, help him, he burned with it…

But he loved her enough to let her go.

A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye— scalding as it dripped down his cheek. He sat motionless in his office chair, his hand squeezing his opposite arm so tightly that the nails made deep red indents in his flesh, but he knew what he had to do.

He’d tell her.

Decision made, Jamie stood from his desk. His feet felt like they were encased with lead, and he was light-headed, as if all that thinking and agonizing had sucked his brain out with a straw. As horrible as he felt, he was resolved, and he made his way sluggishly downstairs.

The scene in the living room nearly shattered that decision.

Claire was asleep on his couch, all curled up and shoulders hunched under the fuzzy throw blanket she had clutched around her. Her bonny pink lips were parted just slightly and tiny whooshes of air tickled a single curl that had fallen over her face.

He ached to see her like this for the rest of his life.

Just as he was about to turn on his heel and leave her to her rest (this was not the time for such a heavy revelation), she stirred. His stubborn feet anchored him in place as he watched her shift, head lifting a bit, and her eyes blinked open.

“Hi, Jamie,” she breathed sleepily.

While giving him a fond but drowsy smile, her head nestled back down onto the throw pillow. She looked up at him with eyes that always reminded him of a fawn’s.

“Havin’ a wee rest?” He asked tenderly.

“Yes,” she breathed. She glanced him up and down appraisingly and then said, “maybe you should too. You seem tired.”

Jamie was tired. He felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder several times over. Still, he knew there was no way he’d actually sleep even if he could tear his eyes away from her long enough to close them.

But if Claire wanted a nap, and was hinting for him to join him, who was he to deny her?

He indulged his selfish desires for a moment and approached the couch so he could bend down and run a hand over Claire’s hair.

She smiled drowsily and leaned into his touch. Her eyes blinked slowly as she gazed up at him.

God, she was beautiful.

“Let’s go upstairs, mo nighean donn,” he suggested quietly.

His sleepy faerie did not seem inclined to get up. Her eyes had fallen closed again, but her hand blindly reached out for him. She caught his cheek, her fingers tracing over the stubble on his jaw.

Then, suddenly, her eyes popped open.

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked, her whisky gaze swimming with concern.

Her abruptness startled him, but he quickly snapped himself out of it and put on his brave face.

“I’m fine, Sassenach. Do ye want to stay on the couch or go up to bed?” he softly asked.

Her brows furrowed, disbelieving, but she firmly answered, “with you.”

He felt bad that he’d upset her but couldn’t seem to drag himself out of the cloud of depression that had wrapped around him the moment he’d decided to take her home.

But he’d have this one last time with her, and he wouldn’t ruin it with dark thoughts.

“Alright. Let’s go, mo nighean donn.”

She sat up, eyes fixed on him all the while, and then took his hand. The way she was looking at him, soft and searching, made his heart skip a few beats. He hardened himself to the overwhelming desire to pour out his heart to her, lay all the cards on the table, and beg her to stay. But he knew in his bones that this wasn’t the time.

Her thumb was tracing lightly over his knuckles, patient as he struggled inside himself.

A part of him wanted to bury his face in her neck and let her stroke his hair— she would do it, he knew. All it would take was him to make the motion, take the comfort from her.

But that wouldn’t be fair. If she saw his distress, she would feel guilty about leaving him. He loved her too much to put that burden on her.

His puir heart was breaking, but he managed to wrap it up in a thin layer of composure, scoop up his scrambled thoughts, and put himself back together. He gave her a brave smile, feigning nonchalance.

Breaking the silence, he said, “let’s go, mo calman geal.”

He took her upstairs by the hand. She was still sleepy, but not inclined to let that stop her from caring for him— even if she had no idea what was going on. He could feel her hovering anxiously by his side, trying to figure out what was wrong.

As they sat down on the bed, Claire tried to tug him down to cuddle with her, but he shook his head. Settling against the headboard instead, he guided her down to lay her head in his lap.

He wanted to watch her. Just this one last time.

Sleepy as she was, but probably even more so because she wanted to do whatever was best for him, she complied. She snuggled down into his lap and settled herself so she was comfortable.

As he carded his fingers through her hair in gentle strokes, Claire began to relax. It wasn’t long before she drifted back into sleep. The lines on her face smoothed, and she seemed to melt into him impossibly further.

His hands still moving soothingly against her, Jamie returned to his thoughts. A terrible weight rested on his shoulders as he came to a realization.

He wouldn’t be strong enough to tell her here— in his home that had become their home (at least he felt that it was theirs)— and still manage to make the drive to the stones. It was selfish to keep this from her, but he simply wouldn’t be able do it. There were limits to his goodness, and he prayed God would forgive him for this one.

So, with his mind made up, a plan began to form.

He would tell her tomorrow that they were going for a hike. They’d drive out to the stones, and he would explain once they got there. His Grandfather’s ruby ring laid on his dresser— that would be what he’d give her to ensure safe passage. And then… then, she’d go home.

And that was that.

This was his last night with her.

He looked down and studied her face for a long time, trying to memorize every tiny detail. He knew it would be the remembrance of her that would warm him on the cold, lonely days that would surely follow. He traced her face reverently, first with his eyes, and then as his selfish, breaking heart took over, with soft touches of his fingertips.

All that was left was to pray that tomorrow he would have the strength to send her away.

***

A/n: I believe now is the time for me to hide 😳

#oh boy #all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #claire/jamie #fae claire

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astarryon · 3 years

Text

Tame Your Demons

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood mention, implied assault, language, general criminal minds things

Summary: The deal you have with Spencer is simple. You call him to take care of the men looking to take advantage of innocents on the street, and he comes to ensure you don’t kill them before he gets the chance. Unfortunately for the both of you, though, things don’t always go according to plan.

A/N: This is my latest love letter to Spencer Reid and Criminal Minds! Part Two will be posted a little later this week, and will be for a slightly more mature audience, if y’all catch my drift. A big thank you to @reids-trauma for letting me run this fic by her, she’s literally half the reason it even saw the light of day. Enjoy!

Masterlist

––

You see him before he sees you.

It doesn’t hurt your feelings— it’s the norm, in any case, and it’s what typically happens each time you reach out to plan a rendezvous. Part of the agreement is that you get to set the location, and you’re always careful to pick places you’re comfortable enough to slip your way out of unnoticed in case he ever morals up and brings his team to corner you. To his credit, that hasn’t happened yet — though you’re not naive enough to give up on the idea that it ever will just yet — but never subscribing to uncertain chances was a lesson you’d learned a long time ago.

But you know you’re safe for tonight, at least. He wouldn’t be meandering around the bar for such a prolonged amount of time searching for you if there were rows of feds waiting to take you into custody as soon as you stepped foot out the door. It takes a full fifteen seconds before his wandering gaze finally touches on you, another three before the glint of recognition appears in his eyes, and by the time he’s straightening his spine and striding purposefully toward you, it’s been an entire minute. Damn. Someone was really starting to lose their touch.

“You’re late, Doc,” you simper, arching a brow as you knock back a hearty sip from your glass. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Reid huffs, crossing his arms over one another as he tries — and fails — to sidle up to you in a casual manner. You note the way he avoids touching the bar at all costs, how he folds in on himself like an exceptionally uncomfortable piece of origami. And then, of course, there’s the suit, far too dressy for a place so casual as the lively little bar nestled in the far side of downtown Georgetown. Jesus, the only way he would look like even more of an off the clock fed would be if his badge were superglued to his palm. “Getting away from the others without raising suspicion on such short notice isn’t exactly the easiest thing to pull off.”

“Yeah, well,” you chuckle, taking another sip from your glass. You make eyes at him, pointedly and conspicuously allowing your gaze to rake his lanky, suit clad frame head to toe. He looks good in the outfit he’s picked, the dark black of his jacket drawing the eye to the maroon button down he wore beneath it, and you marvel at the way his chosen color palette sets off his skin in the dim light. If Reid notices your staring or cares, he makes no show of it. Your ogling doesn’t bother him, not like it used to — doesn’t even make him blush, to your admitted dismay, though you suppose that makes sense. Spencer Reid is nothing like the sweet, shy boy he used to be. He’s not so wide eyed and naive anymore, though you’d never expected that to last very long in the first place. Still — getting a rise out of him had always been your favorite part of your arrangement. If you don’t get to keep that going, these meetings are about to become significantly less fun. “That’s the deal, isn’t it? When I call, you come running.”

“That’s the deal,” he mutters, nonchalantly waving off the approaching bartender. “And I came running. So who is it?”

You jut your lip out into a pout, resting your elbows atop the bar before settling your chin against your palms, sparing only a moment’s thought for how low the neckline of your dress must be dipping with the switch in position before casting the worry out of your mind. Were any other man your company tonight, you might have felt more concern for your modesty, but Spencer Reid was far from being anything like most men, and, honestly, the day you caught him checking you out was the day you mentally marked another tally on your side of the metaphorical score board. “Why’s it always straight to business with you?”

“Because—“

“No ‘hello’,” you go on, skirt riding further up your thigh as you cross your legs over each other. Not even a spare glance. Damn. “No ‘how are you,’ no admission of your undying love for me. If you’re not careful, Spencer, you’re going to start hurting my feelings.”

“No offense,” Spencer retorts, sounding particularly unconcerned with whether his words actually offend you or not, “but your feelings aren’t exactly my top priority right now. Arresting whoever this man is before you take it upon yourself to brutalize him is.”

“Well he’d deserve it, if I did,” you tell him matter of factly, swirling the contents of your glass as you pretend to be more interested in that than the eye-catching man just beside you. “This one likes to take advantage of young girls in clubs who accept drinks from strangers because they don’t know any better and still think there are nice people left in the world. Sometimes he keeps track, like it’s a game, and tries to see how many he can assault in a night, and this most recent time three of them made it home all right, but the fourth one turned up in a dumpster. So, yeah, Spencer, you’ll have to forgive me for figuring that if he ends up in a back alley with a couple of bruises and a broken leg he probably got what was coming to him, but don’t insult me by implying that I don’t know how to keep a promise.”

“If broken legs and bruises were all you left men with it wouldn’t be such a problem,” comes Spencer’s dry remark. “Unfortunately for the both of us, you seem to have a particular affinity for leaving men in comas.”

An affinity with which Spencer was all too familiar, you knew — not because he’d fallen victim to your habit of enacting revenge for all those poor defenseless victims, but because he’d caught you in the act with someone else. Two years later and you still weren’t positive how he’d managed to track you down. Spencer had told you minimal things — that an acquaintance on the city’s police force had reached out for his advice on a mysterious case of incapacitated men turning up in dark alleys, rarely little more than a few minutes away from going brain dead. That he’d been surprised to realize you profiled as female, considering the amount of unadulterated rage your behavior presented. That he’d made the decision to do what he could to keep from turning you in provided you help him be able to do so with a clean conscience before he’d even found you standing over some man with a white-knuckled grip on a tire iron.

“Give me your word that you’ll contact me first,” he’d instructed, a shockingly small amount of hesitancy glinting in his irises. “Give me your word that from the moment you call me, I have twenty four hours to find you so I can take care of all those awful men the right way. If I don’t make it in that time frame, they’re fair game, but if I find out that you laid a finger on them before you called me, I’ll personally see to it that you do time for every single man you’ve hospitalized. Can you agree to that?”

And you had. Partly because you had no interest in spending any prolonged amount of time behind bars, and partly because the odd sense of emotional recognition he’d gazed upon you with had been so unlike anything you’d ever been met with from another human being that you were essentially startled into instant complacency.

“He’s in the bathroom,” you sigh, downing the rest of your drink and flagging the bartender down for another. More for show than anything else, though you know the theatrics aren’t strictly necessary. Your drink of choice while out with company is much more coke than it is rum, and after two years there isn’t any doubt in your mind that Spencer is aware of that. “Has been for a while now, as a matter of fact, because he’s pompous and arrogant and wants to make sure the bait is set right for the barely legal girl he’s meeting here tonight.”

“Don’t suppose you want to share with the class the barely legal method you used to figure that one out?” Spencer deadpans, plucking your new drink from the bar and draining a few healthy sips before you even have the chance to reach for it. That’s something he’s never done before, though you suppose his repulsion to germs wouldn’t factor in one way or the other since the drink was fresh. But Spencer never indulged in alcohol around you, and was always incredibly careful to keep his guard up during these meetings. Either he was playing a different angle tonight, or something in him had drastically shifted.

“Only if you want to share with the class why I’ve been tailing this guy for two and a half weeks while you dodged my phone calls,” you retort, never breaking eye contact as you grab the glass and tilt the rim to your mouth, in just the same place that Spencer’s had been. You think you see a vein in his neck pulse as you swallow, but you can’t be sure whether the lights are playing tricks on you, so you decide not to count it. “Not like you to leave an innocent man’s life in my hands.”

Spencer arches a brow, eyes narrowing as he searches your face for something you’re not sure about. “Not like you to wait to hear back from me before doing anything about it.” He pauses, then, and more to himself than to you mutters, “And I’ve never said they were innocent.”

“Guess you’re right,” you mutter, shrugging a shoulder and leaning back in your chair as you let your eyes scan around the restaurant. The man you’re looking for is still nowhere to be found, and with the way your nerves are beginning to fray beneath Spencer’s all too calm and collected scrutiny, it’s hard to get ahold of your imagination as it barrels toward the worst case. “He’s still not back.”

“He’s probably still in the bathroom,” Spencer offers, giving an unconcerned shrug of his own. “You said he was a primper.”

“It’s been almost twenty minutes,” you shoot back, fixing him with a harsh stare. Normally you’d bother to be a bit more vivacious when speaking to Spencer, even in spite of your own irritation, but the sinking feeling in your stomach is making it impossible to pay attention to niceties. “That’s never happened before. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” But even to you Spencer’s words sound hesitant, like he’s trying to convince rather than tell, and somehow his lack of confidence only serves to make your throat that much thicker. “He couldn’t have left already, you would’ve seen him.”

Yeah, you would have — provided you hadn’t allowed every ounce of your attention to be monopolized by Spencer. You’d been so preoccupied with trying to appeal to his attention, so hung up on matching him wit for wit and taunting and tempting him with bared flesh and sultry gazes that, truthfully, anything could have escaped your notice in the last couple of minutes. Anything. And if some poor girl ended up preyed upon, if she ended up beaten or assaulted or worse, it wouldn’t be as simple as blaming the monster taking advantage of her. You wouldn’t even be able to blame Spencer for distracting you. No— the only person you’d have to blame would be yourself.

“He’s gone,” you breathe, horror a jagged knife twisting in your stomach. Your hands shake so badly that Spencer has to uncurl your fingers from around your glass so he can set it gently down for you. “God, he’s— I let him get away. He’s gone.”

“Don’t work yourself up,” Spencer insists, and if you weren’t sure your panic was playing tricks on you, you’d have sworn you saw his hand reach out to comfort you, just as you saw apprehension tensing his expression. Of course the one thing it took to get a reaction out of him would be unbridled panic. “Listen to me, everything is fine.”

“Not for whatever girl he decided he liked enough to blow off his date for!” you hiss, and it’s a strain to keep your volume low enough not to attract the attention of any other patrons, but you manage. “We need to— Spencer, we have to stop him! He’s going to hurt somebody!”

“Okay,” Spencer tries to calm you, quickly moving to his feet. You can’t get a read on the way he’s looking at you, can’t tell if he’s taking you seriously or trying to decide if he should make a phone call to he nearest psychiatrist, but he seems to be picking up on the urgency of the situation, so you make the choice to let it go. “Let me go check the bathroom to see if he’s still here. If he’s not there, then we can start worrying.” He turns, taking three steps towards the bathroom before spinning on his heel and coming back to say, “Just— stay here, okay? Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

And as you watch his back as he makes the trek towards the restroom, you think about doing what he tells you to. Truly, you do. Spencer could walk into that bathroom and find the man you’d been planning to turn over to his custody and come back with him in handcuffs, unable to help leveling a handsome smirk at you by way of a silent I told you so. You could be panicking for nothing.

But… if there was even the slightest chance that someone innocent could be in the worst kind of danger, was it really worth leaving their fate up to a coin toss?

You’re on your feet as soon as Spencer’s out of sight, beelining for the exit and dodging between other patrons until your legs have carried you out the door and immediately to the dimly lit corner of the block, lined with the closed shops and darkened alleys the man you were after would need to get away with the unspeakable acts he planned to commit. Even as you book it to stop what you know in your gut to be happening, you can’t help but to hope that Spencer had been right. Things would certainly be easier to stomach, were that the case.

But, as you’d somehow known with sickening clarity, the closer you draw to the dark alley gaping between the buildings down the street, the more prominent sounds of a struggle become. You heard a man’s voice — deep and angry and enough to set your hands shaking and your mind blazing with fury — and then, beneath that, the muffled, whimpered cries of a young woman, the sounds of which were so pitiful that you didn’t need to have laid an eye on her to know that she was already sobbing. After that, all thoughts of Spencer effectively flew out the window. Suddenly all there was in your mind’s eye was you, some poor innocent girl having the worst night of her life, and what you were going to do to ensure that nothing bad befell her or any other girl ever again.

“Hey!” you screech, running head first into the alley. “Get the fuck off of her!”

There isn’t any time to survey your surroundings, to take stock of the fact that the man you’d known would be out here was in the process of brutalizing a young woman — one who looked to be barely more than a teen, to your unadulterated horror — nor was there time to really assess what you were barreling toward. All you knew was that your body moved of its own volition, and it was much too late to think things through once you’d collided so forcefully with the assailant that you’d knocked him bodily to the ground. It was too late to second guess yourself now, to wonder whether it wouldn’t be smarter to wait for Spencer, who could actually, legally take care of this guy. The only thing that mattered now was getting justice for everyone who had been too incapacitated to stand up for themselves.

“What the fuck?” the man hisses from beneath you, but you’re already whipping around to get a look at the frightened girl staring down at you. Her eyes are rimmed red, tears trailing down her cheeks, and to your morbid relief, you note that she appears to have no more than an expression of horror on her face.

You’d made it in time, then. By the grace of some higher power, you’d made it in time.

“There’s an FBI agent in the bar down the street,” you bark at her, struggling against the brute strength of the man you were trying — and failing — to keep pinned down. “His name is Spencer Reid. Find him.”

And that was all you had to say before she was running off down the alley and out of sight, the mercy of her safety striking such a psychological chord that you were just distracted enough for the man beneath you to throw a punch that successfully manages to clip you on the jaw, causing stars to swim in your vision as a result.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hisses, quickly pushing himself to his feet and leering over you with a sneer. It made sense that he was under the impression that he had the upper hand— were you anyone else, he likely would have, and you’d have been little more to him than a replacement for the target you’d just saved.

But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t helpless, or defenseless, and you certainly weren’t about to let this lowlife get away with all of the things he thought he was. No — you were someone hellbent on making a lasting difference in the world, and if that had to start with this guy getting his head bashed in, then so be it. You were down a tire iron, but your rage was weapon enough.

You wait until he grabs at your shoulder, waiting for just the right moment as he fully extends his elbow before punching as hard as you can against it in the opposite direction, not pausing to hear the sickening crunch of his bone snapping before rolling to the side, jumping to your feet, and subsequently kicking out his knee with a high heel clad foot. His howls of pain are equivalent to music in your ears, but you don’t pause to revel in the sound before you continue on with enacting your justified persecution. In this moment, you aren’t yourself. You’re not sure who you are, as a matter of fact, but you know it isn’t someone willing to let this lowlife get away with the mass amounts of pain and terror he’s inflicted on so many innocents.

“You like that, baby?” you snarl, letting your foot fly against his unprotected ribcage over and over again between sentences. “Does that feel good? Hmm?”

“You—“ The man cuts himself off with a hacked cough, spluttering and moaning as blood trickles down his chin. You’re not sure if that’s because you’ve kicked him in the face without noticing or because you’ve done enough damage to have already caused internal bleeding, but you’re not overly focused on figuring it out. “You psychotic— bitch,” he spits, and the hatred he gazes up at you with is so potent that you can’t help the wicked grin that curls across your mouth in response.

“That’s right,” you murmur, hovering your foot over the center of his chest for just a moment before digging your heel into his sternum. The harder you press, the louder he roars, and the louder he roars, the more you’re inclined to ensure that his screams continue. It’s a vicious cycle, but one you’re much too fond of to let go. “I’m a crazy, psychotic bitch because I’m a woman who stands up for herself and other women, and because I won’t let shitbags like you take advantage of us. Do you even know how old that girl was?”

His face contorts in pain, hands flying to your ankle in an attempt to pry your foot off his chest, but with one arm out of commission and pain proving to be too much of a distraction, he doesn’t manage to make any significant progress in alleviating your attacks. “Fuck you,” he hisses, but even to your ears, the vulgar words sound weak and reedy.

“I’m sure you’d like to,” you shoot back, digging your heel in that much further. You wait until you see tears welling in the corners of his eyes before letting any of the pressure up, and when you’re sure he’s hurting too badly to try and pull a fast one on you, you step off his chest and kneel to the ground, straddling his torso before your hands snake up to form a necklace at his throat. “You’re not used to girls fighting back, are you? You’re not used to anyone putting up a fight, and because of that you think you can just take whatever you want. Is that right?”

His eyes bulge out of their sockets as you begin to squeeze, hissed obscenities caught in his throat with nowhere to go, and the more he claws at the manacles your hands form, the tighter you let your grip become. It’s power, what you feel as you reconcile with the fact that you’re now quite literally holding this man’s life in your hands, and for a moment, you forget everything else. That you were only in this situation because you’d set out to save someone, that you’d sent that very same someone to go and fetch Spencer to come resolve all of this, that you weren’t an angel of death enacting revenge upon those who rightfully deserved what was coming to them. All those things washed away in the night, in just the same way as the beginning rainfall washed the man’s blood onto the ground in runny pink ribbons. It was only you and him, now. Nothing else mattered.

“You know, it’s men like you,” you snarl, squeezing so tightly against his throat that your knuckles go white and your fingers stiff, “that make people afraid to walk home alone at night. To send their kids off to college, to let their little ones grow up and experience the world. Because there are always— always monsters like you just waiting to take advantage of us. And no one’s ever made you pay for that, before, have they? That’s why you’re still so cocky, and confident enough to pull this shit out in the open because you know you’ll get away with it.”

Distantly, in the back of your mind, you think you hear someone calling your name. It’s hard to say for certain; with how focused you are on enacting revenge, on making sure this lowlife feels every single ounce of pain he’s ever managed to inflict on another unsuspecting human, your senses aren’t left with much more of an attention span. Even if they had been, you wouldn’t have bothered using it. Your fury, burning your nerves like hellfire, proves such a strong beacon of desire that you have no choice but to indulge. It feels good, the way his breath catches beneath where the heel of your palm digs into his throat, and you can tell by the way his eyes are beginning to cloud that if you keep it up, if you press just a little harder, squeeze just a little more—

Warm, strong arms snake around your middle, forming an inescapable cage of iron trying to pry you off the man beneath you, and the primal snarl that rips from your throat in response is a clear threat, but it does nothing to deter them. Hyperfixated as you are on finishing the job and ensuring that the man on the ground never lives to breathe another day, you don’t have the attention to spare, but your subconscious takes in the sharp scent of cloves filling your nostrils, the soft brush of curls against your shoulder, the domineering grip shackling your wrist maintaining a surprising air of gentleness. Your name is hurriedly whispered into your ear once, twice, three times, and by the fourth round you realize they’re not whispers at all — they’re shouts.

“Let go of him,” Spencer barks, bruising your ribs with how harshly he yanks you backwards. “Listen to me, listen to me. Let go of him.”

“Get off me!” you hiss in pain, stars dancing across your vision as you feel a slight bend in one of your bones, throwing an elbow back in retaliation. It lands square on his chest, and though the resulting grunt of pain he gives is certainly satisfying, it isn’t worth the grip you lose on the man’s neck. Once you’re down by one hand, it isn’t at all difficult for Spencer to wrench the second one back, and before you know it you’re a good ten feet down the alley, kicking and screaming wildly against Spencer’s grip as the monster you’d nearly strangled to death sputtered his way back to life.

“Calm down,” Spencer snaps, voice deep and low in your ear as he adjusts his grip around your torso so that you’re more fully pressed agains his body. “You need to breathe, do you hear me? Snap out of it. She’s okay. You got here in time and she’s okay. She’s safe, and you’re safe. Calm down. Calm down.”

You want to tell Spencer that he’s wrong. That you can’t be safe, that no one can be, so long as the man groaning on the ground across the alley is allowed to keep breathing. That this man can’t be allowed to live another day, waiting for the next opportunity to take advantage of an unsuspecting stranger who didn’t know any better. That it would be better to put him down now than to wait around for him to fuck up all over again, to ruin someone else’s life.

So you do.

Or, you try to. But all that manages to leave your mouth is little more than bent sobs and broken screams.

“It’s okay,” Spencer goes on, “it’s alright. Everything’s alright.” He uses the grip he’s got on your arm to spin you around, muffling your sobs as he brings your head against his chest and keeps it there with a gentle hand rested against the back of your head. Your body’s shaking so badly against his that, with your eyes still closed, you’re certain you’re still struggling to free yourself from his grip. It isn’t until you feel your fingers — numb with cold and shock and adrenaline — curl into his jacket that you realize you’re holding onto him for dear life. “Just breathe. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

“He was going to—“ You cut yourself off with a choked sob, shaking your head profusely. “He was going to—“

“I know,” Spencer murmurs, “I know. You don’t have to explain, just breathe.”

You hate this — that he’s caught you in such a vulnerable position, that he’s bearing witness to the rapid decline of your mental state. You hate that this is what it took to finally get him to wrap his arms around you, to offer words of reassurance and certainty rather than fixing you with unimpressed looks and exasperated eye rolls. Most of all, though, you hate that he’s now seen you at your worst, and that, going forward, he’ll never quite be able to dissociate you from the monster you truly are.

You don’t know how long he holds you there, murmuring insistent reassurances into your ear as he holds you gently to his chest. For how at odds it is with every other interaction you’d had with him — those ones where he’d roll his eyes, wave you off, regard you as little more than a vapid, spoiled brat who was all too used to getting her way — it’s nearly impossible to reconcile how you’d grown used to being treated with how you were being treated now. And though it’s certainly the last thing your mind should be focussing on, though you really don’t have the mental capacity required to work through this on top of everything else, you can’t help but come to the realization that you’re actually quite fond of the change.

A voice from across the alley cuts through the careful atmosphere of misguided comfort Spencer has crafted for you, and though he won’t let you turn around — actually goes so far as to squeeze his arms more tightly around your middle so that you can’t — the very sound of the man’s voice sends you dangerously close to the edge of the precipice all over again. “Are you… the fed that bitch was talking about?” His voice is hoarse, and half his words come out in broken hacks. It’s childish in the most juvenile of ways, but you can’t help the twinge of satisfaction that sparks to life in your blood. “Arrest her! She tried to kill me!”

“Actually,” Spencer mutters darkly in response, “from where I’m standing and from what that high school senior told me, she was only trying to stop you from committing assault. If anyone here is getting arrested tonight, it’s you.”

“Are you— are you fucking serious?” The blatant shock shooting his cracked voice up two octaves might have been funny, were the situation that led to it not so horribly severe. “She broke my fucking leg!”

“Thing is,” Spencer shoots back, never even missing a beat, “they do a lot worse to rapists in prison. I’d know— I’ve seen it.” The way his voice drops as the words tumble from his mouth catches your attention, but you don’t have the time to properly contemplate asking why before he’s going on. “You ask me, she went a little too easy on you. Remember that when you finally get what’s coming to you.”

And then Spencer’s calmly leading you away, maintaining a gentle yet firm grip on your waist to keep you from trying to look back. Even if you could, you don’t imagine you’d be much inclined to. You have no remorse for what you’d nearly done, and, truthfully, you’d left men in far worse states in the past. You know that; Spencer does, too. Yet, even in spite of that, even in spite of the fact that this was the second night he’d born witness to you attempting to kill a man, his touch on your body remains soft, and he curls over you like a protective blanket.

“We can’t just leave him,” you find the strength to whisper once you’ve put a healthy amount of distance between you and the alley’s opening. The street lights grow brighter the closer the two of you get to the bar, and you’d never admit it out loud, but it makes you feel that much safer. “He’ll get away. You need to… you need to go back.”

“I called the police as soon as I went to go check the bathroom,” Spencer tells you, leading you back into the safety of the bar. Suddenly surrounded by the sounds of raucous laughter and joyful whoops, it’s almost easy to forget what just occurred outside — almost. “They were on standby in case anything went wrong, but I had them hang back until I could get you out of there safely. They’re probably in the middle of cuffing him now.”

“And the girl?” you ask, so dazed that you don’t even protest or make any sort of snappy remark as Spencer gently helps you into a secluded corner booth. “She’s... you made sure she got home safe?”

“I called her a taxi and gave her my phone number,” Spencer answers, fixing you with as reassuring a stare as he can manage. “She’s going to give me a call in the morning about pressing charges. She was scared and a little banged up, but he didn’t... nothing happened. You stopped it before it could.”

You’re too weak to do anything with the knowledge but nod and sink down to the table, protectively covering your head with your arms as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. Dark thoughts, thoughts twisted in rage and a deeply intense need to protect, continue swirling through your mind, and if you’d thought catching your breath was impossible before, it’s effectively become something of an Olympic sport now, though the reasoning for why effectively evades your understanding. What you’d been through tonight, what you’d been ready to do to that man — if he could even be called a man — isn’t anything that’s never happened before. Hell, scum like that were the very reason you’d gotten caught up with Spencer in the first place.

But… something’s different now. You can tell by the way the oxygen rattles through your lungs, the way you can’t still your shaking fingers as they clatter against the tabletop. You don’t know what it is, where it’s come from, or how to stop it, but it’s there, and you can feel it.

Fingers softly brush up against one of your wrists, startling you so forcefully from your reverie that you can’t help the cry of shock that drops from your mouth as you yank your arm back with as much urgency as if you’d been burned. Seconds pass, then ten, then thirty, and even as your subconscious mind works double time to interpret the concerned light in Spencer’s eyes in response to his touch, you remain unable to fully come back to the present.

“You need to eat something,” he tells you, casting his eyes back down to the table. It’s a testament to how much time has passed that there are now two glasses of water covered in condensation that, up until this point, you’d not even been aware were present. “It’ll help with the shock.”

“I’m not going into shock,” you mutter, squeezing your hands together and resting them in front of you. Spencer catches sight, but if he has something to say about it he keeps it to himself. “And I’m not hungry. I just want to go home.”

“And I’ll take you there,” Spencer responds, metaphorically digging his feet in. “But you need to eat something first. And drink water.”

You roll your eyes, shakily moving to stand. “I’m not—“

“Sit down.” The hard glint in his eyes, sharp and metallic as a knife, makes it clear that he isn’t asking, and against your stubborn will, you immediately do as he commands. You want to think it’s simply because you’re too tired to fight back rather than too frightened or intimidated, but then, you can’t quite be sure. At least, not until Spencer leans across the table, insistently holding your gaze in something that you think might be a warning, and it’s only now that you realize he’s been holding back his frustration in favor of seeing to your needs, just as his composure begins to slip. “I told you to wait for me at the bar.”

“Yeah, you did,” you respond with a halfhearted roll of your eyes. “You should have known better.”

“No,” Spencer shoots back, “you should have listened to me. Instead you went and broke your word, all because you had something to prove to yourself.”

You can’t help but scoff in disbelief at Spencer’s implication, momentarily startled into genuine speechlessness. Those words hurt — so much so that you really weren’t inclined to admit that they did, lest Spencer think he have more power over you than you were actually willing to give him. So instead, you pushed back the hurt and leaned into the rage. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but at this point, you’d try just about anything to cut through the debilitating numbness medicating your senses at the moment.

“I didn’t break shit!” you hiss, repressing the urge to scream. “And if you really think I did what I did because I was thinking of myself, then you’re just as bad— no, scratch that, you’re… you’re even fucking worse than the rest of them!”

And you expect Spencer to launch some scathingly cruel insult back at you, one that cuts you deeper than you’d ever known words could be capable of, because Spencer’s a genius, after all, and he’s kept up with you enough over the years that he knows how to make an insult hurt if he wants it to. To your admitted surprise, though, he doesn’t open his mouth and hurl knives your way; he doesn’t even look at you like he wants to hurt you, in the way that you’re positive you’re looking at him. Instead, he only blinks down at you, carefully analyzing the expression on your face and the fury in your words before giving you any kind of response. It’s more than you deserve, really.

But Spencer’s soul has always struck you as kind.

“You could have gotten yourself hurt tonight,” he sighs, shaking his head in what you think could be disappointment. “You realize that, don’t you? That what you did was reckless and ridiculously stupid?”

You bark a harsh laugh in response to that, shaking your head as you go on squeezing your hands together. “In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t the one in danger. Believe me, you didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“You said he’s escalated to killing girls after assaulting them,” Spencer presses, and it’s only as you minutely glance down at the table that you realize he’s curling his hands into fists of his own. “Did you ever stop to think that if he’d managed to overpower you, that could have happened to you too?

“Well it didn’t, did it?” you snap, searching for the power to quell your sudden annoyance. You know it’s misplaced; Spencer’s only doing his best to take care of you, without saying as much in so many words. You should be happier for it; after all, hadn’t you spent years attempting to get Spencer to consider you? To leave lasting impressions on his mind? To sneak your way into his late night, private, personal thoughts? Sure, on the surface it had all been more for show than anything else, but… even if he’d never known the truth, you certainly always did. “I’m fine. Okay? Fine. I’m not going into shock—“

“You’re certainly acting like you are.”

“— I’m not having a panic attack—“

“Again, you could have fooled me.”

“— and I’m not hungry! Okay? I’m not! I just want to go home!”

And it’s lucky that Spencer had the foresight to seat the both of you as far away from the general population of the bar as possible, lest any of the unsuspecting strangers hear the two of you squabbling over something so harrowing, but even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have cared enough to bother lowering your voice. All of these people, laughing, chatting, obliviously participating in their good times, and all the while an innocent girl had nearly been violated just a few buildings away out on the street. It wouldn’t have been their fault — really, the only person that should have been held accountable was hopefully being dragged to the police station at this very moment — but the fact that life could so casually go on while a child had to suffer the worst night of their life in silence just didn’t sit particularly well in your throat.

You inhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you brace against the inky misery staining your senses. When you open them again, blinking through the stubborn tears trying to form in the brim of your eyes, you find Spencer carefully considering your face, and all you can do is hope he doesn’t notice the way your lip wobbles.

“I just want to go home,” you say again, hardly managing to get the words out in anything above a whisper. “Please, Spencer, just… I don’t… I can’t be here right now. Please just take me home.”

It’s hard to say what exactly takes the fight out of him. It could be the way you’ve said his name, softly, desperately, pleading in a manor which you’re certain he’s never heard from you before. But then, it could also be the tears welling in your eyes, far more conspicuous a sight than you’d have liked and one Spencer had only ever been confronted with once before. Whatever it is that’s done the trick, it prompts the softening of his gaze, along with the gentle downturn of the curve of his mouth. Just out of the corner of your eye, you think you see his fingers dancing hesitantly over the table top as they steadily migrate closer to yours, and though he doesn’t try to make contact with you this time, he manages to offer you an inexplicable amount of comfort as his fingers dance in a mirror image of the motions of yours.

“Okay,” Spencer concedes, frustration fading out of his expression to allow concern to take the lead. “If that’s what you need, then okay. But— just, put this on, at least.” Before you can interpret his meaning, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and pushing it across the table, and before you can protest, he’s pressing forward stubbornly. “It’s raining outside, you’re shaking, and that dress is gorgeous but it’s not going to stop you from catching hypothermia. Just wear it until we get to the car.”

He’s not leaving you a choice, judging by the glint in his eye that makes it clear he isn’t willing to hear any back talk on the subject. You consider doing so anyway — partly because you’re not sure you’re in the mood to take orders from Spencer, no matter how emotionally distressed you are, and partly because you’re afraid the weight of his jacket on your skin and the scent of his cologne in your nose would be just a bit too intimate for you to handle in this moment — but ultimately, you do as he asks, grabbing at the dark bundle of fabric and wrapping it around yourself like a blanket of protection.

It’s… warm. And it smells good, too. Embarrassing as it is, concentrating on further inhaling the scent of it — of him — is nearly enough to instantly cause your hands to cease their trembling.

“Let’s go,” Spencer murmurs, offering his hand as he stands from the table.

Wordlessly, you take it.

––

Part Two: Something of a Dangerous Game

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #angst #hurt #comfort #semi fluff #unsub reader #tw assault #tw violence #tw language #tw blood mention

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you. You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

Jaskier’s A-Z of Animals

Summary: “I have an idea!” Lambert announced loudly, his words slurring slightly. He’d clearly drunk too much white gull.

Jaskier flicked his ears and tilted his head. This could only end terribly.

- Or Lambert suggests a game of Guess the Animal.

Previous Story (but this can also be read alone)

_________

Jaskier purred happily as Geralt’s fingers threaded through his fur. The fire was roaring in the hearth and Jaskier delighted in the prickle of heat against his feline body. The witchers were all drunk as skunks but Jaskier hadn’t felt like joining in with their merriment. Their witcher booze did strange things to his head and he’d vowed to bring his own store of ale or wine along with him next time.

Lambert was pontificating loudly, swishing his hands about and rambling on about some stupid humans he’d met on the path. Apparently they’d tried to swindle him out of his coin after a contract. Jaskier yawned and flicked his tail, hissing gently. He’d seen enough of that behaviour over the last few months with Geralt. Luckily for Geralt, Jaskier the mutant dog/wolf companion had been incredibly efficient at persuading the more nefarious humans to relinquish their coin. Geralt scratched him behind the ears. Jaskier meowed and rolled onto his back so that Geralt could scratch his belly.

The witcher chuckled. “Always so needy, you bastard.” He murmured fondly but his fingers still moved to Jaskier’s soft fur on his underbelly.

Jaskier hissed and grabbed Geralt’s fingers under his claws. He didn’t draw blood but Geralt should know better than to call him needy. That just wasn’t fair.

“Jask.” Geralt warned and pulled his fingers away.

Well now, that wouldn’t do. He yowled loudly and tilted his head, widening his eyes as he peered up at his witcher.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Stop scratching me then.”

Jaskier mewed and rolled back over so he could climb up onto Geralt’s shoulder. He nipped at Geralt’s ear gently.

“I have an idea!” Lambert announced loudly, his words slurring slightly. He’d clearly drunk too much white gull.

Jaskier flicked his ears and tilted his head. This could only end terribly.

“Spit it out, Lambert.” Geralt grumbled.

“Fuck off, patience, White Wolf!” Lambert glared at him and tripped over the rug. He almost fell flat on his face but Jaskier was quicker. He leapt to the ground, shifting mid leap into a wolf. Lambert fell against him and laughed. “I found a Jaskier!”

Eskel snorted. “You didn’t find him. Geralt found him and then he shagged him.”

Geralt groaned. “You guys are drunk.”

“Yeah, well, You’re not drunk enough!” Lambert mumbled into Jaskier’s fur.

He howled and wagged his tail.

“See, Jaskier agrees with me!” Lambert grinned. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy?”

Jaskier barked, turning so he could nuzzle against Lambert. He wrinkled his nose as the scent of white gull hit him. Gods it stank, especially in this form. He really didn’t know how the witchers could bear it.

“He’s not actually a dog, Lambert.” Geralt sighed wearily.

Jaskier turned to Geralt and growled. He was a good boy! Geralt was just a grumpy witcher.

“Fine. Whatever.” Geralt rolled his eyes but came over to join them on the floor.

Jaskier wagged his tail and then sat in Geralt’s lap. Geralt huffed but rested his chin on Jaskier’s back. Lambert continued to scratch him behind the ears and he was in heaven. It really was a dog’s life at Kaer Morhen.

“I want a go.” Eskel whined. “Geralt always gets a go.”

“Get your own.” Geralt grumbled and buried his face in Jaskier’s thick fur.

Geralt was apparently a sleepy drunk this evening. Jaskier liked that, Geralt was always more cuddly when he was tired, but he was also being a grumpy bastard and needed to learn to share. Jaskier rolled his eyes and leapt from Geralt lap. He jumped at Eskel, putting his paws on the man’s shoulders, and licked him in the face.

“Puppy!” Eskel laughed and scrunched his nose up as Jaskier continued to lick his face.

“What was your idea?” Geralt asked Lambert.

“My idea! Guess the animal!” He yelled.

Jaskier sat back down and barked. He assumed he would play a part in this game. He growled quietly, a low rumble in his chest. The witchers knew that he didn’t enjoy being treated like an experiment. He didn’t want this game to turn into a test of his abilities like it had beenat Lettenhove. He shifted again into a mouse and scurried back to Geralt. The room blurred as he shifted and he used his whiskers to guide him as he buried into Geralt’s shift.

Geralt snarled at the redhead. “Lambert!”

“What?”

“He’s family, not a toy.” Geralt’s voice rumbled in his chest and Jaskier could feel the vibrations. He squeaked and nuzzled Geralt’s chest.

“I know!” Lambert whined. “But I thought…”

“You don’t think!” Geralt snapped. “That’s your problem.”

Jaskier squeaked again. He wanted to know Lambert’s reasons. He wanted to trust them. They were Geralt’s family and they’d be nothing but accepting of his gifts.

“I thought!” Lambert continued loudly. “That he knew he could trust us. I thought that it could be fun for him too, he could show off a bit and he knows none of us care what he can and can’t do.”

Jaskier considered that carefully and shifted back into a cat. He poked his head out the top of Geralt’s shirt.

“Jaskier!” Geralt grumbled.

He chirped happily. The temptation to shift back to human was almost too much. Geralt saw him naked all the time. He was allowed to enjoy the thought of ripping his boyfriend’s shirt to shreds, but instead he ducked back inside the shirt and crawled out the bottom.

When he was seated back in Geralt’s lap he shifted to human.

The others yelled and pretended to cover their eyes.

“I’m in.” He announced, not bothering to cover himself and batting Geralt’s hands away. “But I reserve the right to stop at any time. The moment I feel like it’s more than a fun game then I’m out. Got it?”

Lambert grinned and extended his hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

“Game stops once I turn into a wolf. No questions asked.”

There was a mumble of agreement.

Jaskier thought about his knowledge of animals. It wasn’t complete despite what the witchers may think. Some animals came easier to him, the wolf and the cat for example. He found mammals easier in general. He supposed the genetic make up was closer to his human form. He was also limited by what animals he knew. He’d spent a lot of time in his youth studying books on animals. They were the only books his parents had allowed him to have in his dimeritium prison of a bedroom. For years the books had been his only access to his abilities outside of the controlled ‘sessions’.

He would start easy enough. He gave Geralt as quick kiss on the cheek and winked before letting the magic loose once more. His skin rippled back into ginger fur and his bones crunched as he shifted in Geralt’s lap.

“FOX!!” Lambert yelled. “Aww look at you. So cute.”

Jaskier let out a screeching bark and trotted over to the redhead with his bushy tail trailing after him. He nuzzled against Lambert’s open palm and shifted again.

He slithered to the floor with a hiss. Reptiles were probably his least favourite animal so he was eager to get this out of the way. The room lit up in infra red and he flicked his tongue tasting the air as he familiarised himself with the room in this form. The witchers ran cooler than humans and it was difficult to make them out with the fire drawing his eye from the corner of the room.

“Snake!” Lambert shouted again and Jaskier turned to hiss at him. He slithered up the witcher’s arm and curled around his shoulders, flicking his tongue in Lambert’s ear. “Get off.” He grumbled. “Next one!”

Jaskier shook his head and hissed.

“We have to be more specific?” He heard Eskel ask.

He nodded. He’d chosen this particular snake for a reason. The scales were distinct, yellow and bristly. He slithered back to the floor and curled up into a ball.

“Umm… Viper?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded again and hissed.

“Prickly viper!” Lambert tried.

“Spiky viper?” Eskel guessed.

Both good guesses but not quite right. He hissed and shifted to human, lounging extravagantly on the rug. “Spiny bush viper, found in desert regions.” He accidentally hissed on the ’s’ sounds and grinned sheepishly. “I saw a picture in a book when I was younger. ”

Before they could question him further he shifted again, blue and orange feathers rippled out this time instead of fur. He flitted between the witchers landing on each of their heads, and he suddenly had an overwhelming craving for fish, he was starving! He He wondered if there was any in the kitchens. He was sure Vesemir wouldn’t mind if he went for a snack.

Geralt must have recognised the animal instincts taking over and he caught Jaskier gently in his hands. Jaskier fluttered his wings angrily in Geralt’s hands and chirped loudly, trying to find an escape from his prison.

“Kingfisher.” Geralt said softly in a whisper. “Next one, Jask.”

Jaskier chirped again but let Geralt’s rough soothing voice ground him. He shifted in Geralt’s hands, his wings growing and the feathers disappearing until was a fluffy bundle in Geralt’s palm.

Geralt slowly opened his hands and Jaskier flinched away from the light. This choice had been logical in the darkness of Geralt’s hands but the bright light of the room was almost too much. He fluttered up to the ceiling, dipping a few times as his wings felt heavier than expected. It was time to rest. He felt incredibly tired all of a sudden. He curled his wings around him as he found a nook to rest in.

“Did anyone see that?” Lambert asked. “The bugger moved too fast.”

“You’re just getting slow in your old age.” Geralt laughed.

“I’m younger than you, old man!” Lambert grumbled and Jaskier heard the two witchers start to brawl.

“Jaskier!” Eskel called. “Come down and control your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

Geralt.

Jaskier closed his eyes and jumped from his hiding place. Shifting again mid-air into a kestrel, but for the first time in a while the shift didn’t come easy. He almost dropped to the ground before he managed to find the energy to flap his wings.

He’d done too many shifts too quickly. Cat. Wolf. Mouse. Cat. Human. Fox. Snake. Human. Kingfisher. Vampire Bat. Kestrel.

Fuck.

He’d hadn’t even noticed it had been so many.

Even back at Lettenhove he’d struggled with ten at a time. The most he’d pushed it before had been fifteen and that had almost killed him. It had been years since he’d tried. He could stay as any form for as long as he liked but too many consecutive shifts were exhausting. He’d forgotten about that. He usually settled after two or three, six at a push. There wasn’t much need to keep flitting about in different forms.

He tumbled to the ground, crash landing on the rug. The noise broke up the fight between the two grumpier witcher and Geralt scooped him up in his arms. “Jaskier, what’s wrong?” He murmured and he stroked a finger along Jaskier’s fur.

“Too much white gull!” Lambert slurred. “Drunk birds can’t fly.”

Geralt snarled at Lambert but didn’t answer him. “Can you shift to human?” He asked quietly.

Jaskier considered it. His wings felt limp but nothing was broken. He was just tired, he needed a nap and food… gods he was so hungry.

“Jask, don’t sleep. Not yet. I need to know you’re ok.” Geralt was obviously worried and Jaskier felt a little guilty for forgetting his own limits like that. He should have known better.

He’d just been swept up in the witchers’ joy and laughter, knowing the excitement they felt had nothing to do with wanting to use and abuse his abilities. The tasks had been so similar to those he’d performed at Lettenhove but the warmth and affection of the witchers had been the opposite of the calm calculated coolness of his parents.

Geralt needed to know he was ok. He needed words.

That meant he had to shift.

He let his magic go one last time and collapsed against Geralt’s chest. “Fuck!” He groaned. “Game over.”

And passed out.

________

When he awoke he was covered in furs and wearing one of Geralt’s black shirts by the feel of it. Geralt’s shirts were rougher fabric than his own. His whole body ached and he felt liked he’d run through one of the witcher obstacle courses, twice. Geralt’s fingers were in his hair and he could hear him bickering with Lambert.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Lambert grumbled. “It’s not like I purposely set out to hurt him.”

“Again.” Eskel chimed, clearly amused by the entire argument.

If Jaskier’s head hadn’t been quite so sore he probably would have laughed. He’d underestimated the blond witcher when he’d first arrived at Kaer Morhen. He’d been taken in by Eskel’s kind and gentle personality. He’d hadn’t noticed the glimmer of humour underneath. Eskel seemed to thrive in chaos. He enjoyed gently pushing and teasing his fellow witchers until they were almost at each other’s throats and Vesemir had to calm everyone down. The others hadn’t even seemed to realise that it was Eskel manipulating the entire conversation. Jaskier had a huge amount of respect for Eskel as a result.

“Again.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier knew his witcher was about two seconds away from brawling with Lambert again and he took pity on the redhead. He groaned dramatically and snuggled further into Geralt’s lap.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s hands stopped in his hair.

“Morning…” He mumbled.

“What happened, pup?” Jaskier blinked a few times and then opened his eyes. Vesemir had joined them… oh and they were in his bedroom.

“Shifted too many times.” He muttered. “Forgot to take a break.”

“This has never happened before.” Geralt hummed thoughtfully.

Jaskier tried to sit up but his head span so he flopped back onto Geralt’s lap on the bed. Geralt was sitting up against the headboard and Jaskier had essentially been using him as a pillow, not an unusual occurrence. The others were crowded around the bed. He felt a pang of guilt. He must have really worried them for them to all be here.

“Not for years. When was the last time you’ve seen me shift more than…” He pause to think “six times?”

Geralt just hummed a response.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He grumbled. “Now can everyone please fuck off, I’m tired.”

The witchers all grumbled and began to filter out of them room. Lambert mumbling what could have been an apology as he left.

Jaskier’s stomach rumbled noisily. “Oi! Wait! On second thoughts! Lambert, darling, dearest witcher. Have we got any fish?”

Lambert groaned and stalked out the room. “I’m only doing this because I almost killed you, wolf.”

“Again!” Eskel pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck off!”

Jaskier grinned and cuddled up against his boyfriend. Family, you couldn’t live without them.

_______

Next Story!

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #kaer morhen #wolfie's witcher writing #jaskier pankratz #jaskiers a-z of animals

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writingsfromstarfleet · 4 years

Text

Spock - Chocolate

♫ - In Blue - Declan McKenna

For a lovely Anon, I hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading! Hugs! ♡

Starfleet had provided you with a plethora of experiences, knowledge and learning opportunities, and you had made it your mission to learn as much as you could about other cultures. It had always fascinated you how other species in your galaxy and beyond acted and lived. Your time aboard the Enterprise had only advanced that.

You had been stationed on the ship for nearly two years, and in that time you had encountered so many different races, stepped onto so many different planets, you were learning all the time. Over those two years, you had also come to find yourself in a relationship with her resident Vulcan, Spock. Much to the shock of her senior staff, Spock and you had lasted, and you could safely say you'd never been more in love.

Being with Spock had given you opportunity to learn more in depth about Vulcan habits and culture, and it also gave way to meeting a fair few other Vulcans, too; some were polite and rather pleasant by Vulcan standards, others were Sarek.

Every day, when you thought you knew all there was to know about Spock, out he came with something else, and each time you fell just that bit more in love with him. This was shaping up to be one of those days.

The day had been fairly dull as far as days aboard the Enterprise went. It wasn't every day there was no malfunction, no attack, no form of a problem. Jim had even managed to not start any arguments with hostile species. Finishing up the last of your report, you headed out and began the walk through the ships winding corridors to your quarters, a yawn or two here and there. All you wanted was to curl up with a good book and a beverage. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to walk in on.

Every time, without fail, if Spock was behind the door, he was always stood there ready to greet you. So it struck you as unusual to walk in and see him lay flat on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as though it was the most mesmerising thing he'd ever seen. His hand was above him, waving around as though he were drawing shapes in the sky. Hearing the door open and seeing you enter out of the corner of his eye, Spock sat up, and looked over to you with a grin; rather uncharacteristic of him, though you hadn't means to question it.

"Hi there," you spoke softly, titling your head and giggling. "Are we alright there, Spock?"

"Good evening, I am perfectly fine, Y/N, though I would much prefer if you were not so far away."

The tone of his voice made you raise both eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. Spock was never the one to initiate such things, nor was he someone who said things of the like. What was wrong with him, you didn't know. You complied, setting your things down on the table and walking towards him. Once in arms reach, you found yourself pulled flat against him as he sat on the edge of the bed, nestled comfortably between his legs.

There was a comfortable silence around you, though you did wonder just what was wrong with Spock; he had his strange moments, and his emotional moments, but you'd yet to see such a moment as this. Breaking the silence, you spoke softly, pulling back to look down at him and running a hand through his hair.

"Perfectly fine, hey? Have you been drinking?" You knew all too well he hadn't, Spock never drank. Still, you had no other logical explanation for his behaviour.

"I am not intoxicated, Y/N, the captain suggested I sampled the chocolate in the mess hall, and I did. Admittedly, it was a bad idea, though I could not go against Jim's-"

"Orders, yes," you cut him off, realising what had happened. He most definitely was intoxicated. "And just how much have we had?"

"I am unsure, perhaps a bar." His voice was upbeat compared to his usual stoic tone, and it hit home just how much he must've had. Knowing it wasn't going to harm him kept you calm and very entertained at the whole fiasco.

"I think we should get you lay down, Spock."

"No."

You blinked, looking at him with wider eyes as he grinned at you; it finally clicked with you. You'd read somewhere that chocolate really didn't sit well with Vulcans, and it was an experience you didn't think you'd have to deal with first hand. Part of you believed it was just legend, a mere myth as it were, but another part of you was grateful you could see such an act. Spock was always prim and proper, almost regal, and so to see him in such a childlike and rather human manner was amusing you to no end.

"No?"

"No."

One eyebrow raised, you stared at your boyfriend, who currently had turned into your four year old toddler throwing a tantrum. You tried desperately to to pull yourself from Spock, attempts which had proven unsuccessful. His arms stayed firmly around your waist and his head rested on your chest, grip only tightening the more you tried to wriggle free.

"Spock, please, you need to rest, you're clearly-"

"Fine."

Huffing, you were about to retort when he pulled you down next to him and lay beside you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and tickled you slightly, all the while you tried your hardest to escape. There truly was no proper attempt, however; you were quite content to stay there with him if it meant he was lay down at least. You heard Spock laugh as he tightened his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him. His lips lightly left kisses on your shoulder, up your neck and eventually his lips met your own. Despite his state, his kisses were as gentle as ever, and you pulled back and took his hand in your own.

"You, sir, are something else." Your giggling betrayed the tone of your voice, and you had resigned yourself to the fact you weren't going to get any sense through to him until he'd slept this state off.

Smiling, he took his free hand and ran it through your hair, pulling your head down to rest gently against his chest.

"That is why you love me" he replied, tone sleepy in comparison to how it was when you'd walked in.

Not two minutes later did you look up to the Vulcan and find him asleep, returning your head to its original position.

So much for the book and cup of tea, though you weren't complaining; this was a far better way to end a dull day.

#star trek #star trek x reader #star trek imagine #star trek the original series #star trek tos #the original series #tos #spock #spock x reader #spock imagine #imagine #x reader

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ladyartemesia · 4 years

Text

OREOs... and Electroshock Couples Therapy

You and infuriating precinct playboy Jeon Jungkook go undercover to lure out a killer targeting engaged couples. Literally nothing goes according to plan...

Genre: Fluff/Comedy/Suspense

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Trope: Enemies/Rivals to Lovers ~ Fake Dating

AU Type: Loosely Brooklyn 99 (with a hint of Smallville) Police Detectives AU

Word Count: 3315

Rating/Warnings: (PG-15) kidnapping with threat of harm (not graphic) ~ mature themes and innuendo ~ light/implied smut

“Your delusions have run away with you again.”

“My delusions? Now I know it was you. You’re even more insufferably pretentious when you’re trying to hide something.”

Jungkook grinned.

“Brilliant theory, Detective. Shame there’s no way to prove it.”

“You could confess,” you fumed tightly.

His grin became positively gleeful. You were this close to tasing him.

“Do you genuinely expect me to confess that I ate your last Oreo?”

“It was a violation of human decency.”

“Yes, and when we find the culprit, I’ll be sure to tar and feather him.”

“You’re not taking this seriously, Jeon.”

“Now, whatever gave you that idea?” Jungkook asked as he folded an arrest report into a paper airplane.

You were saved from responding when Captain Kim barked both your names across the precinct.

“Detectives _______ and Jeon. My office. Now.”

Namjoon sighed as he watched the two of you bicker all the way to the door.

It’s like having extra children.

“We’ve got a case. Commissioner marked it top priority and you two are taking lead as of right now.”

Your forehead wrinkled in confusion and Jungkook raised a single curious brow.

“But Jimin is my –”

“Why not Hoseok?”

Namjoon raised a hand to silence you both. You weren’t teaming with your regular partners. Questions were to be expected.

“Jimin’s staying on that trafficking case while you work with Jeon. We need to draw out a perp targeting engaged couples. Thus far, all of his victims have been a male and a female, mid-to-late twenties. You two fit the profile, so...” he grinned, “congratulations on your engagement.”

🕵🏻‍♀️👰🏻🤵🏻🕵🏻‍♂️

As special cases went, this one was … truly bizarre.

The victims always disappeared a few weeks before their wedding. Some couples were abducted, then later returned to their homes or vehicles with no memory of the previous 48 hours.

Others turned up dead in alleyways.

Ligature marks and burns on the bodies indicated the use of restraints and electrocution. After some digging, you discovered that all five couples visited the same jeweler and the same bakery in the process of planning their wedding.

Jungkook nibbled the tip of his pen, absently tugging his curls as he scanned the case files.

It wasn’t sexy.

It wasn’t.

“Looks like this is the best lead we have. Even though some of them ended up choosing other bakeries and jewelers – they all came through those shops.” He tossed the pen across his desk and stretched back in his chair – causing his shirt to strain over his chest.

You gulped.

Is it, like, hot in here? -your eyes lingered momentarily on his biceps- Why is maintenance messing with the thermostat right now? People are trying to work-

“Hello? Earth to Detective Space Cadet.” Jungkook waved a tattooed hand in your face. “Are we going with my idea?”

He had an idea? I must have missed it during that brief bout of thirstiness hot flash.

“I – uh – was analyzing some of the victim profiles …-in my head-” you paused to loosen your collar – which was suddenly strangling you, “-so could you just run it by me once more?”

Detective Jeon raised a single eyebrow.

“Daydreaming about me again?”

Yes.

“No. I was actually daydreaming about my last Oreo,” you leaned forward with an eyebrow raise of your own. “Really, it meant so much more to me than you do.”

He laughed and you felt yourself smiling (against your better judgement).

“Always so cold, Detective. I think you may have hurt my feelings.”

“Impossible,” you sighed airily, “we both know you don’t have feelings.”

“Says who?”

“Gina from Forensics.”

“Fine. Who else?”

“Wendy from Missing Persons.”

“Doesn’t count. I was very drunk.”

“Jimin’s sister.”

Jungkook winced.

“Is he still sore about that?”

“I wouldn’t accept food or beverages from him any time in the next decade.”

“That’s fair.”

It was your turn to laugh and Detective Jeon had the decency to blush. He recovered quickly, however.

“As I recall, there was a lot of feeling between those lovely ladies and myself.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Spare me Jeon. If I want to learn about baboon mating habits, I’ll watch Animal Planet.”

Jungkook hissed in feigned pain and clasped his hand over his heart.

“Ouch. Direct hit.”

“I am the top marksmen in the precinct.”

“Hey” he sat up – abruptly serious, “We’re tied.”

“For now.”

“Until I beat you.”

“Until you are beaten by me.”

He bit his lip and grinned – crinkling his nose in a way that was unfairly adorable.

“Kinky.”

“Oh-KAY,” you swiveled away in your wheelie chair and threw a paper clip at him (which he caught handily). “You were telling me about your plan?”

“Yes. While you were daydreaming about me-” (you snorted at that, but he pretended not to hear) “-I suggested we couple up and head to those shops. Maybe our perp will take the bait.”

You shrugged, “Sounds good.”

Gathering your coat and bag, you tossed a quick glance over your shoulder - already halfway out the door.

“I’ll swing by my locker and change into a dress or something. Meet me by the front gate in 10 minutes.”

Jungkook followed after you - catching up as you entered the elevator.

“I noticed you never denied being kinky.”

His grin was seven different types of sinful and if you were even the tiniest bit weaker, you would have cuffed him to the lift rail and addressed his statement explicitly.

You, however, were no Gina from Forensics.

Instead, your features twisted into a knowing smirk as you steered yet another moment between yourself and the delicious infuriating Jeon Jungkook into safe and familiar territory.

“Impressive,” you drawled cheekily as the doors began to close, “I can see why they made you a detective.”

🕵🏻‍♀️👰🏻🤵🏻🕵🏻‍♂️

The bakery was a famous family-owned establishment near the center of town. Its current owner, Kim Seokjin, had been crowned the city’s most eligible bachelor for 5 years running.

The man in question was, at the moment, personally campaigning for your vote.

“Now open wide,” he murmured as he slipped a sumptuous square of Seokjin’s Signature Red Velvet ™ between your parted lips.

Your eyes rolled back into your head. “Oh, that’s delicious,” you moaned.

Seokjin chuckled. “Thank you. I always hope customers can taste my passion in every bite.” The seemingly innocuous words sounded positively lewd dripping from his luscious mouth. You briefly forgot how to exhale.

The baker leaned in a bit closer and brought up his thumb to wipe away non-existent crumbs from your lips, “I find it really helps me connect with them,” he whispered intimately.

You were literal seconds from licking icing directly off Seokjin’s finger when-

“Okay. That’s enough of that.”

There was a firm tug on your elbow and you collided hard with Jungkook’s chest. It took a moment to regain your bearings (you were still slightly dazed from looking directly into Seokjin’s eyes), but suddenly Jungkook and Seokjin were staring each other down over a plate of cupcakes and all of Jungkook’s limbs were entangled with your own.

His legs rested on either side of your hips, his left hand latched around your back and torso - pinning you to him from chest to knee caps, and his right hand -

A surprised squeak slipped past your lips as he fully palmed your backside.

Mouth agape, your gaze shot up to meet his, but Jungkook was still glaring stoically at Kim Seokjin. He didn’t even flinch when you pinched him under the arm.

Frankly, you had not envisioned a scenario like this when you reported for duty this morning. Your mind struggled to process a reality where you were plastered all over Jeon Jungkook - surrounded on all sides by pastries and angry beautiful men - and oh my gosh that hand was still on your-

“Find what you were looking for, babe?” his familiar voice snapped with an extra edge of possessiveness that you absolutely - definitely - for sure - totally hated and did not make you shiver involuntarily.

Lies, lies, lies...

Seokjin’s eyes narrowed. A cool smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I think the lady was very satisfied with what I had to offer.”

Jungkook’s jaw twitched.

Oh boy…

You learned long ago to dread that jaw twitch.

It was the jaw twitch of I-will-win-this-even-if-I-have-to-break-every-bone-in-my-body-and-burn-down-a-building-in-the-process.

Visions of flying muffins and bloodshed danced behind your eyes.

Not to mention Jungkook would likely wreck Seokjin’s face and that would be a travesty.

Time for some drastic measures.

Thinking quickly, you slid your hands up over his chest to bury your fingers in his hair and yanked his face close to yours.

“Baby,” you purred, letting your lips brush ever so slightly over his, “I wanna go look at rings now.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened immediately. Tension thrummed in the space between you. Your body suddenly seemed to poised to ignite as you pleaded prettily with him.

“Won’t you take me, love?”

The was a sharp flare of something in his gaze and the next thing you knew Jungkook was sweeping you toward the exit - right hand still firmly planted on your-

“I look forward to seeing you again soon,” Seokjin called out - in a tone more suited to a bedroom than a bakery.

Jungkook froze. His jaw twitched again, but you were out of patience.

“Come along now, Poodle,” you growled before dragging him out the door.

🕵🏻‍♀️👰🏻🤵🏻🕵🏻‍♂️

“What was that?!” you hissed after walking a suitable distance from the bakery.

“I was about to ask you the same question. I can’t believe you called me Poodle!”

“You're lucky that’s all I did. Between the butt grabbing and the chest beating, I was tempted to bash both your heads in with the complimentary tea tray.”

He snorted.

“I was just maintaining my cover - unlike you.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fiancé, Muffin. Drooling all over Kim Seokjin’s goodies while he touches your mouth doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m in a committed relationship’.”

Your jaw dropped and you sputtered out a noise that was equal parts guilt and exasperation.

“I was probing for information!”

“And he was about to probe right back,” Jungkook muttered.

“What was that?” you snapped.

“I said the jeweler is on the corner of 5th and Womack.”

🕵🏻‍♀️👰🏻🤵🏻🕵🏻‍♂️

The tension between you and your ‘fiancé’ was palpable by the time you finally entered the jewelry store.

“What kind of ring were you looking for, Precious?” Jungkook gushed with nauseating sweetness.

“The biggest and most expensive we can find, Cupcake!” you cooed through clenched teeth.

For several minutes you wandered aimlessly through the store playing the role of a hard to please couple (employing increasingly more obnoxious pet names with each exchange).

The clerk, a tight featured man with tiny glasses, kept shooting disapproving looks and sniffing loudly whenever you asked to see anything. After a few minutes of irritable huffing, Jungkook lost patience.

“I’m surprised this place is still in business, Cuddles.”

You snorted, equally put off by the jeweler’s brisk demeanor.

“I think we’re done here, Kookie Bear. I parked the car in the garage by Maxwell Market. If we get back in ten minutes, we won’t be charged for another hour.”

The last thing you remembered before completely blacking out was a sharp pain in your neck.

Then you opened your eyes to very real trouble.

🕵🏻‍♀️👰🏻🤵🏻🕵🏻‍♂️

It felt like there was a knife in your forehead - probably a side effect of whatever drug was used to knock you out.

As your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting, you became aware of several things at once.

You and Jungkook were strapped to chairs facing one another in (what appeared to be) someone’s basement. Electrical stimulators simmered menacingly over various contact points on both your bodies.

...ligature marks and burns on the bodies indicated the use of restraints and electrocution…

Your gaze traveled cautiously over your partner. There was a cut near his temple - probably caused when he fell after being drugged - other than that he looked unharmed, but his eyes were still closed and his breathing seemed labored.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered. Your voice sounded cracked and raw.

How long were we out?

After a moment his eyes opened and his panicked gaze darted frantically before landing on you.

It suddenly occurred to you that his face might be the last thing you ever saw. The thought prompted a strange sort of comfort as well as a powerful surge of emotion.

A single tear slid slowly down your cheek.

Your head wasn’t entirely clear yet, but you could vaguely hear the jeweler rambling on about how he was going to save you both from the pain he suffered.

“What ...pain?” Jungkook’s voice sounded as rough as yours. He was still fighting off the effects of sedation.

“The pain of lies,” your captor hissed. “My wife’s lies destroyed me. I lost everything. I never would have married her if I’d known-”

His unhinged monologue continued in that manner for several uncomfortable minutes, but he did finally get around to mentioning why you were chained up in his cellar.

“-to find the truth. If you want to save each other, you must tell the truth.”

Your eyes fell to your fingers, already knowing what you’d find there.

“Lie detectors?” Jungkook whispered incredulously.

“To know for sure if you truly care. Your lies hurt the one you love. Down here, your lies will kill her.”

“What are you saying?” Jungkook snarled. His voice dripped with real menace.

“I’m saying, if you lie, this will happen.” He pushed a button on the small remote in his hand and excruciating pain suddenly tore through your entire body.

You screamed.

“Stop!” Jungkook shouted. His body jerked against the chains and the chair creaked precariously beneath him. “I will kill you, you bastard!”

“No! You’ll thank me for sparing you the pain of heartbreak.”

“We aren’t engaged!” you gasped, still shaking from the aftershock. “This was a ruse - to - to draw you out. We can’t pass it-”

But the jeweler ignored you and cranked up the voltage on his machine.

“First question to the groom. Are you hiding anything from her?”

Jungkook swore and yanked against his chains again.

“Answer the question or I’ll do it,” the jeweler warned. “Your silence can deceive as well.”

You whimpered in terror and Jungkook howled with rage.

“Yes. I am,” he bit out tightly.

The voltage cranked again and another tear drifted quietly down the side of your face.

“What are you hiding?”

Jungkook’s eyes dropped in shame, but he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t.

“I do eat your last Oreo. Every time. The first one was an accident. I thought they were Jimin’s... I don’t even like Oreos that much... But I make sure I always get to yours.”

You couldn’t stop a pathetic cough of laughter. “You’re confessing to the Oreos? ...Really?” Your body shook as more silent tears tracked down your face. “Jeon Jungkook you’re so strange,” you whispered softly - almost tenderly.

The jeweler’s eyes narrowed.

“There has to be more than that!” He cranked the voltage again. “Tell her what you’re really hiding!”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“She comes to see me when the Oreos disappear. I work mostly homicide and she’s narcotics. We were paired together on a task force a couple months ago and since then I...”

His eyes squeezed shut as he fought for the right words. When they opened again, he was speaking only to you.

“Our paths don’t often cross, but when you find me to yell about the Oreos... it’s the best part of my day.”

His gaze dropped as he continued, “There hasn’t been anyone else since the moment we met…” He heard your quiet gasp and his mouth tilted into a small tender smile.

“There’s only you,” he whispered.

The harsh scrape of a lever being pulled caused you both to jump. Jungkook grunted in pain. He passed the test, but the charge was live on his body now.

It was your turn to face the truth.

“Tell me,” the psychotic jeweler snapped - clearly disappointed that no one had died yet, “do you love this man?”

Your eyes widened and Jungkook’s head shot up. Your gazes locked significantly and you felt your heart wrench.

“It’s ok,” Jungkook whispered. “Just tell the truth.”

His beautiful face was filled with trust and understanding.

You knew what he expected your answer to be.

You knew what you’d say if his life wasn’t on the line.

But only the truth would keep him safe.

“Yes,” -your eyes fluttered shut - it was too much to face him when everything you buried deep down was now laid bare between you- “I do.”

You saw him flinch - as if he expected the pain to come.

But it never did.

For a moment there was only excruciating silence... then the barest whisper of your name passing breathlessly over his lips.

“NYPD! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”

You had never been so happy to hear Sergeant Min’s voice in your entire life.

But he’d come too late to spare either of you a confrontation with the truth.

🕵🏻‍♀️👰🏻🤵🏻🕵🏻‍♂️

The next several hours passed in a blur. You were separated from Jungkook almost immediately. You caught one final glimpse of him as you were both loaded into ambulances.

His gaze stayed fixed on you as the doors closed.

You vaguely recall giving statements and Namjoon yelling - a lot - like he always does when he’s worried.

He hugged you so tightly.

At some point you started to cry.

There was a constant stream of doctors and psychologists...

Then they sent you home.

Mandatory Crisis Leave.

Loud banging startled you off the couch and onto the floor of your apartment. It was only the second day of leave, but someone was already interrupting.

In hindsight, you should have known exactly who it was.

“Jungkook ... ”

He looked so wonderful it almost hurt. You savagely beat back the urge to slam the door in his face and bury yourself underneath a pile of blankets.

“I’m... really tired of eating those Oreos.”

His jaw worked reflexively. After a moment, his eyes crept up to meet yours.

You nodded.

It was literally all you were capable of doing.

“I want to talk to you every day,” he said with a little more confidence.

Tears began to prick the back of your eyes. You nodded again and he stepped slightly closer.

“I want to hold you. And not just when we’re undercover.”

You laughed. Tears began to fall in earnest.

Jungkook’s hand rose cautiously toward your face and you leaned forward ever so slightly, allowing his thumb to soothe away the wetness on your cheek.

“I am in love with you... and- and I have no idea what I’m doing,” he lowered his forehead to rest gently against yours, "but from now on... I want to do whatever it is with you.”

Pure burning joy bubbled up from your chest as you surged forward - finally pressing your lips to his.

There was laughter and more crying as you stumbled together into your apartment, shutting the door on the outside world to lose yourself in each other.

As you lay in his arms several hours later with the echoes of his touch still humming over your body and your mouth still swollen from his kiss, you realized that what you’d been running from all those months was nothing more than your own fears.

Here - next to him - was where you were meant to be all along.

Ask My Muse: Have a question for the characters in this work? Send it to my ask box and hear their side of the story.

Endnote: This is an extensive rework of a piece I originally wrote for another fandom (if you see it elsewhere - but with Reylo - it’s me - I promise). It is based heavily on the plot of one of my favorite episodes of Smallvile (I was a huge Smallville fangirl back in the day). The dynamics are inspired by one of the greatest shows of all time - Brooklyn 99. I haven’t written much for the BTS fandom, but I would really love to hear what you think! (Let me know what you thought pretty please?) Much like Jimin I survive primarily on takeout and praise.

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